
Pass ?K 543 1 

Book .Gr? P^ 




OORBACH, 
MZVfYOnK, 



COPYRIGHT. 1689. BY HAROLD ROORBACM: 




2lv00lJ)acJ)*S full PfSrriptibC ffintnlogue of Dramas, Comedies, Comediettas, Farces, 
Tabieaux-vivants, Guide-books. Novel entertainments for Church, School and Parlor 
Exhibitions, etc.. containing complete and explicit information, will be sent to any addre«| 

1 receipt of a stamp for return postage. Address as above. 



PREFACE 

There is one charge which every biographer 
of Shelley must be prepared to face. A certain 
number — though it may be only a small number 
— of critics will infallibly arise and reprove 
him, with solemnity, for indulging in " chatter 
about Harriet." It is a way, like another, of 
asserting moral and intellectual superiority ; but 
it may itself be made the object of criticism. 
For no biographer plunges into *' chatter about 
Harriet " out of sheer wantonness. The pur- 
pose of such chatter is to enable, first the 
writer, and then the reader, to " see Shelley 
plain." 

Any man who chooses may say, of course, that 
he does not want to see Shelley plain ; and that, 
equally of course, is final. One can no more 
argue with such a man than one can discuss the 
intricacies of arithmetic with the man who 
proclaims that he does not care whether two 
and two make three or four or five. He is en- 
titled to his indifference, and the road is clear 
for him to pass by on the other side. But if 
one does wish to see Shelley plain — if one would 

V 



PREFACE 

like to know him as one knows the most intimate 
of one's friends — ^then it is imperative that the 
chatter about Harriet should be sifted. Sainte- 
Beuve said so; and few critics deny the weight 
of Sainte-Beuve's authority. 

Nor does the repetition of such chatter imply 
the least disparagement of Shelley as a man or 
a poet. The idea that an interest in Shelley's 
relations with Harriet (and with Mary, and 
Emily, and the two Janes) is incompatible 
with an enthusiastic appreciation of the " Prome- 
theus," the " Cenci," and the " Epipsychidion," 
is the fixed notion of a few pompous people; 
but it should be shaken out of them. The men 
who knew Shelley best, and loved and admired 
him most, did not share it. Hogg speaks of 
Shelley as his " incomparable friend " ; Med win 
thought him the greatest poet of his time; 
Trelawny worshipped him almost as a god. Yet 
Hogg chatters about Harriet in the most de- 
lightful vein of comedy; and Medwin discusses 
Emily without setting any bridle on his tongue; 
and Trelawny is very anxious that the world 
should see Mary as she really was, in order that 
it may judge Shelley justly. 

The books of these writers — ^who, in spite of 
their inaccuracies, at least knew their man — 
are still the chief sources from which the material 
for the picture must be sought; but there are 
vi 



PREFACE 

other sources which have recently been made 
available, — a good many sources, indeed, which 
were not opened up until after the publication 
of Professor Dowden's important work. 

Harriet Shelley's Letters to Mrs. Nugent, 
freely quoted in these pages, are the chief of 
them. They give us Harriet's own view of the 
circumstances of her separation from her husband ; 
and another, and very interesting, view of that 
grave event is contained in a letter, also 
given in these pages, written by Charles Clair- 
mont to Francis Place, and included in a collec- 
tion of autographs recently acquired by the 
manuscript department of the British Museum. 
On the vexed question of Shelley's relations 
with Jane Clairmont, fresh light is thrown by 
the " Talks with Jane Clairmont,'*' published by 
Mr. William Graham in his Last Links with Byron, 
Shelley, and Keats ; by some of the letters from 
Jane Clairmont to Byron, published in Mr. 
Prothero's edition of Byron's works ; and by some 
passages in Trelawny's Letters recently published 
by Mr. Buxton Forman. The queer story of 
the attempt on Shelley's life at Tanyrallt is 
elucidated by a recent contributor to the Century 
Magazine ; and the Memoirs of a Highland 
Lady, who was on a visit to the Master of 
University College, Oxford, when Shelley was an 
undergraduate, supplements Hogg's narrative in 

vii 



PREFACE 

some particulars, and invites a revision of our 
estimate of that catastrophe. 

Finally, the Sequel is new. The story there 
told of the courtship of Mary Shelley by the 
author of " Home, Sweet Home," and of Mary 
Shelley's affectionate regard for Washington 
Irving, is based upon a correspondence only dis- 
covered, in circumstances to be related, a few 
years ago, and, as yet, only privately printed 
by the Boston Bibliophile Society. 



Vlll 



CONTENTS 



CHAP. 

I THE COUNTY FAMILY 

II ANCESTORS AND PARENTS 

Ill THE ACADEMY FOR YOUNG GENTLEMEN . 

IV ETON 

V UNIVERSITY COLLEGE, OXFORD .... 

VI FIRST LOVE AND NEW THEOLOGY .... 

VII "the NECESSITY OF ATHEISM" — EXPULSION FROM 

OXFORD 

VIII POEMS ADDRESSED TO HARRIET GROVE — LIFE IN 

LONDON — RETURN TO FIELD PLACE 

IX MISS KITCHENER AND HARRIET WESTBROOK 
X ELOPEMENT WITH HARRIET WESTBROOK 
XI MARRIAGE — THE HONEYMOON AT EDINBURGH — LIFE 

IN LODGINGS AT YORK 

XII HOGG, HARRIET AND ELIZA WESTBROOK — HOW MIS- 
CHIEF WAS MADE 

' >.>»«-'-*^-«i'iii^ AT KESWICK — Shelley's reconciliation with his 

FATHER — HIS RELATIONS WITH SOUTHEY — HIS COR- 
RESPONDENCE WITH WILLIAM GODWIN 

XIV THE EXPEDITION TO IRELAND . . . • 

XV IN WALES AND AT LYNMOUTH — THE SHELLEYS JOINED 

BY MISS HITCHENER 

XVI DEPARTURE FROM LYNMOUTH — LIFE AT TANYRALLT 

— A SECOND VISIT TO IRELAND . . . • 

XVII ESTRANGEMENT FROM HARRIET .... 



PAQB 

13 
19 
27 
33 
47 
59 

67 

78 

89 

101 

117 

128 

142 
157 

170 

182 

194 

ix 



CONTENTS 

CHAP. PAGE 

XVIII SEPARATION FROM HARRIET AND ELOPEMENT WITH 

MARY GODWIN 208 

XIX CHARLES CLAIRMONT ON THE SEPARATION . . 219 

XX SHELLEY, MARY AND JANE CLAIRMONT IN FRANCE 
AND SWITZERLAND — DARK HOURS IN DINGY LONDON 
LODGINGS — DEATH OF SIR BYSSHE SHELLEY AND 
IMPROVEMENT IN SHELLEY's CIRCUMSTANCES . 226 

XXI THE DEATH OF HARRIET — THE CHANCERY SUIT . . 238 

XXII AT CLIFTON AND BISHOPGATE — MARY's RELATIONS 

WITH JANE CLAIRMONT 247 

XXIII JANE CLAIRMONT's RELATIONS WITH BYRON . . 257 

XXIV AT GENEVA AND GREAT MARLOW — ^SHELLEY's SECOND 

MARRIAGE 268 

XXV DEPARTURE FOR ITALY — THE " ESCAPE FROM LIFE " 

— THE SOCIAL BOYCOTT 281 

XXVI ROME AND NAPLES — MELANCHOLY AND THE CAUSE OF 

IT — JANE CLAIRMONT's LOVE FOR SHELLEY . . 294 

XXVII AT PISA — EMILIA VIVIANI 307 

xxviii Mary's confession of failure .... 320 

XXIX TRELAWNY's notes on the life at PISA . . 329 

XXX JANE WILLIAMS 343 

XXXI CASA MAGNI 351 

THE SEQUEL 
MARY Shelley's suitors ..... 361 
Index 385 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

Facing page 

PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY .... Frontispiece 
(Frmn a crayon drawing in tlie Bodleian Library) 



SHELLEYS MOTHER 

{From a painting in the possession of Sir John Shelley, Bart. ) 

WILLIAM GODWIN 

{From a painting by Northcote in the National Portrait Gallery) 

MARY WOLLSTONECRAFT SHELLEY .... 

{From a drawing in the Bodleian Library) 

JANE WILLIAMS 

{From a painting in the Bodleian Library) 



E. J, TRELAWNY 



86 



152 



208 



346 



362 



XI 



f 






ROMANTIC LIFE 9F SHELLEY 
y N^ t CHAPTER I 

K V y^^ THE COUNTY FAMILY 

The genius of Shelley is, as it were, a rare 
and radiant flower found blossoming, by some 
inexplicable accident, on the genealogical tree 
of an obscure but wealthy county family. 

There is just one kind of genius which the 
head of such a family may be relied upon to 
understand and foster : the genius which con- 
sists in the possession of ordinary talents raised 
to a high power. For the man of genius who 
differs from the average man, not in kind, but 
only in degree, the path, if he be born into a 
county family, is made very smooth. He takes 
x^ orders, or is called to the bar, or enters Parlia- 
^ ment ; he grows up, amid sympathetic applause, 
;.]i to be a bishop, or a judge of the High. Court, 
Vf^^ or a Minister of the Crown. 

If Shelley had entertained any one of these 
ambitions, he would almost certainly have 
achieved it. He was quite clever enough; and 
his father and grandfather had £20,000 a year 
to spend in pushing his fortunes. His advan- 
l^tages, in that respect, were greater than those 

I f ^- '^ 






THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

of the most brilliant of the boys whose names 
one finds grouped with his in an old list of the 
Upper Fifth at Eton : Bishop Sumner and Sir 
John Taylor Coleridge. He might have suc- 
ceeded in life as conspicuously as they did if, 
like them, he had been satisfied to take the 
wisdom of his forefathers for granted and walk 
in the way prescribed for him. " Instead of 
which," he wrote The Necessity of Atheism ; and 
his county family could not have been more 
horrified if he had gone about stealing ducks. 

One must not blame them overmuch, however, 
or pretend to think that Shelley's genius would 
have been appraised more justly in a suburb 
or a provincial town. There are quite as many 
prejudices in semi-detached villas as in country 
houses; and the feeling that everybody ought 
to be, alike in word and deed, exactly like every- 
body else, is one of the most deeply-rooted 
instincts of human nature. Cannibals share that 
sentiment with County Magistrates; devil-wor- 
shippers with dignitaries of the Church. They 
are at one as to the necessity of conforming, 
and differ only as to the ideal to which it is 
proper to conform; the ears of the reformer 
being nailed to the pump for precisely the same 
reason for which the bones of the missionary 
are thrown into the stockpot. 

On the whole, therefore, Shelley gained more 
than he lost by membership of a county family. 
He gained, at any rate, a good education and 
good manners, — the power to conciliate and 
14 



THE COUNTY FAMILY 

charm. Any society to which he might have 
belonged would have esteemed him a rebel, and 
treated him accordingly, — ^bullied him, and at- 
tempted to suppress him. But any society to 
which he might have belonged would also have 
set its mark on him in the impressionable years; 
and the mark of Field Place, Eton, and Oxford 
is, at any rate, more pleasing than that of the 
suburb, the Commercial Academy, and the 
counting-house. 

One is sensible of this imprint of the country- 
house, the public school, and the University, 
from the beginning to the end of Shelley's career. 
One is specially sensible of it when one finds 
him saying and doing the outrageous things 
which conflict most strikingly with public school 
and University traditions. Even when he is out- 
rageous he is never uncouth. He never gives 
the impression, as so many rebels, reformers 
and original thinkers do, of a strange fowl which 
has strayed into the wrong farmyard by mistake. 
He revolts with the air of one who is sure of 
himself socially as well as intellectually, and 
also with a certain underlying sweet reason- 
ableness which dissolves rancour and disarms 
hostility. 

Not, of course, all hostility. The savage 
Cordy Jeaffreson, for one, has written of Shelley 
in the tone of a ruffled house-wife scolding 
a maid-of-all-work. The fastidious Matthew 
Arnold, for another, has written of him as of 
some obnoxious insect picked up reluctantly 

15 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

with a pair of tongs. But the men who knew 
him loved him. Byron, who praised few of his 
contemporaries, praised him without reserve; 
Trelawny's affection touched the point of hero- 
worship; and the magic of his personahty still, 
after the lapse of years, makes fresh friends for 
him across the ages. 

Perhaps, however, we may justly say that 
Shelley's friends and enemies have this in com- 
mon : that they both tend to take his youthful 
ebullitions a shade too seriously. The latter give 
one the impression of brawny blacksmiths smash- 
ing a butterfly with sledge-hammers ; the former 
are prone to cut the figure of bearded men sitting, 
in exaggerated humility, at the feet of a boy- 
preacher; neither gesture is quite compatible 
with a true sense of humour or of the fitness 
of things. 

The essential fact which Shelley's biographer 
must bear in mind is that he has not a complete, 
but only a truncated life to write about : a life 
cut short before it could draw its own moral as 
lives have a way of doing. In the survey of 
a life extending to the normal span, the things 
said and done before the age of thirty count, 
as a rule, for very little, — and Shelley died at 
twenty-nine. The case is hardly one, therefore, 
for approval or disapproval, — or even for agree- 
ment or disagreement. It will suffice, in the 
main, to view the fragment of life before us as 
a spectacle, — a fragment of a tragi-comedy 
which leaves off instead of ending. 
16 



THE COUNTY FAMILY 

It is a spectacle of a boy fumbling with life, 
and making experiments with it, — beginning to 
play the game of life with deadly earnestness, 
long before he has any adequate knowledge of 
the rules. Most boys do that to some extent; 
but Shelley did it in an exceptionally spectacular 
and striking way, scornfully refusing to take 
the rules of the game on trust from his elders, 
but trying to deduce them from first principles 
by means of pure reason; resolved to learn 
what there was to be learnt about the game from 
his own and not from other people's experience. 

His experiments brought him adventures, — 
not one adventure only, but a vivid series of 
adventures. He faced the adventures — he went 
out to look for them, indeed — with the courage 
of his convictions, and the vitality of his years. 
He has been charged with a want of humour — 
an " inhuman want of humour," according to 
Matthew Arnold ; but what of that ? Don 
Quixote also lacked humour, and so did the 
Knights of the Round Table ; and yet they are 
among the most treasured figures of romance. 
Shelley took life pretty much in their temper, 
inspired by their passion for " riding about '* 
as well as for " redressing human wrong." 

Humour would doubtless have come to him 
later if he had lived ; but, in the years of experi- 
ment, there was neither room nor time for 
humour. Experiment spelt mistake; and every 
mistake suggested a fresh experiment; and each 
fresh experiment brought a fresh adventure. 
B 17 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

The Human Comedy, after all, is always more 
visible to the spectator than to the player, who 
is by no means called upon to be amused by the 
entertainment which he provides; and that con- 
sideration shall assign the limits of the present 
biographer's task. 

He hopes not to be censorious after the manner 
of the Philistines. He hopes also to put aside 
the idea that Shelley should be regarded as the 
founder of the philosophy of all those who agree 
with his opinions. His quest is rather for 
Romance, and for the Human Comedy which 
runs through Romance, giving it sometimes, it 
may be, a sub-acid flavour; and having thus 
announced his programme, he may hark back 
to that genealogical tree, from the shade of 
which he wandered to make these introductory 
remarks. 



18 



CHAPTER II 

ANCESTORS AND PARENTS 

Shelleys begin to be heard of soon after the 
Norman conquest, and continue to be heard of 
from time to time through the Middle Ages. 
A Sir Thomas Shelley was Ambassador to Spain 
in the reign of John; and another Shelley 
was Judge of the Common Pleas in the reign 
of Henry VIII. Perhaps one may best give 
the measure of the importance of the Shelleys 
of those days, by saying that they were 
just important enough to have to forfeit their 
heads if they took the losing side in civil 
strife. Sir William Shelley, the Ambassador's 
brother, lost his head for " endeavouring to set 
up Richard II " ; and it is from him that Percy 
Bysshe Shelley's descent is traced in Berry's 
County Genealogies : Sussex. 

This younger branch of the house, however, 
fell upon comparatively evil days. Their sove- 
reigns lost the habit of knighting them, and they 
were in a fair way to decline from the state of 
squires to that of yeomen, when first Timothy 
Shelley (the poet's great-grandfather) and then 
Bysshe Shelley (his grandfather) restored the 
fortunes of the family by means of wealthy 
marriages and political activities. 

B2 19 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

The case of Timothy Shelley, indeed, was like 
that of Saul, who sought his father's asses 
and found a kingdom. He went to America to 
practise as a doctor — a " quack doctor," accord- 
ing to Medwin, but we need not insist — and 
married a wealthy widow of the appropriate 
name of Plum : one of the earliest recorded 
examples of those transatlantic marriages which 
have brought American dollars across the ocean 
to replenish European coffers. Returning to 
England at an unknown date, he became the 
squire of Fen Place, Warnham, where he died 
in 1770, leaving two sons, John and Bysshe. 
John, who married the daughter of William 
White of Horsham, lived at Field Place, where 
he died, childless, in 1790. Of Bysshe there is 
more to be said. 

It had been stated that Bysshe Shelley, like 
his father, practised medicine, and was, for a 
time, in partnership with James Graham, the 
mesmerist in whose establishment Nelson's Lady 
Hamilton (then Emma Harte) sustained the 
role which her biographers have described. 
Be that as it may, however, he cannot have 
practised long; for he was hardly more than 
thirty when he began his successful matri- 
monial career. He was a man, apparently, who 
combined a keen eye for romance with an equally 
keen eye for the main chance. He married 
twice; he eloped with each of his two wives; 
and each of them was a great heiress. The first 
wife was Mary Catherine Michell, only child and 
20 



ANCESTORS AND PARENTS 

heiress of the Reverend Theodore Michell of 
Horsham; the second was EUzabeth Jane Sidney 
Perry, only daughter and heiress of WiUiam 
Perry of Turvil Park, Bucks, Wormington, 
Gloucestershire, and Penshurst, Kent. 

Having thus enriched himself, Bysshe Shelley 
took an interest in politics on the Whig side. 
Political services rendered to the Duke of Norfolk 
— the Duke who is chiefly famous as the heaviest 
drinker of his age, with the single exception of 
the father of Chateaubriand's Charlotte Ives^ — 
were rewarded with a baronetcy by the Whig 
Administration of 1806; but his habits were 
queer, and his old age was misanthropic. He 
was a miser of a rare kind : a miser of a fine 
presence and a certain stately grace, who spent 
£80,000 in building, but lived, a lonely widower, 
in a cottage, with only one servant to wait on 
him, and, if we may trust Medwin, " used to 
frequent daily the tap -room of one of the low 
inns in Horsham, and there drank with some of 
the lowest citizens." Another authority states 
that he did not drink with the company, but 
only argued with them; but that is a minor 
detail of little moment even to teetotallers. 

By his second marriage Sir Bysshe Shelley 
was the ancestor of Baron de Lisle and Dudley; 
but the fortunes of his second family are outside 
the scope of this work. The children of the 

^ The Duke and Mr. Ives once drank against each other 
for a wager. The parson drank The Duke under the table, 
and then rang for a tumbler of brandy and water, — "hot 
and strong." 

21 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

first marriage were Hellen, who married Robert 
Parker of Maidstone, Mary Catherine, who died 
unmarried in 1784, and Timothy, born in 1753, 
who married in 1791, EUzabeth, daughter of 
Charles Pilfold, of Eifingham, in Surrey, — a 
woman of great beauty, as Romney's portrait 
of her attests. Timothy Shelley and his wife 
lived at Field Place, and there Percy Bysshe 
Shelley was born on August 4, 1792, — the eldest 
of a family of seven, of whom two died in in- 
fancy, but Elizabeth, Hellen, Mary, and Margaret 
survived. 

That is enough of genealogy for the present; 
but, as the story of Shelley's life begins as the 
story of a boy's revolt against his parent's fixed 
ideas, Medwin's thumb-nail sketch of Timothy 
Shelley must be given. Inaccurate as he is on 
many points, Medwin may be trusted here, for 
he knew Sir Timothy fairly well. He tells us 
how Sir Bysshe, for all his miserliness, gave his 
son a good education, sending him to University 
College, Oxford, and allowing him to take the 
Grand Tour ; but he continues : — 

" He was one of those travellers who, with so 
much waste of time, travel for the sake of saying 
they have travelled ; and after making the circuit 
of Europe, return home, knowing no more of 
the countries they have visited than the trunks 
attached to their carriages. All, indeed, that 
he did bring back with him was a smattering of 
French, and a bad picture of an eruption of 
22 



ANCESTORS AND PARENTS 

Vesuvius, if we except a certain air, miscalled 
that of the old school, which he could put off 
and on as occasion served. 

" He was a disciple of Chesterfield and La 
Rochefoucauld, reducing all politeness to forms, 
and moral virtue to expediency; as an instance 
of which he once told his son, Percy Bysshe, 
in my presence, that he would provide for as 
many natural children as he chose to get, but 
that he would never forgive his making a 
mSsalliance.^^ 

It is a convincing picture, made more con- 
vincing by the further statement that Timothy 
Shelley " occasionally went to the parish church," 
but required his servants to do so regularly. 
One infers from it an empty-headed, muddle- 
headed man, generally lax in practice but prone 
to be obstinate in theory; a man who con- 
fused his ideals and saw only a blurred line 
dividing the worship of God from the worship 
of Mammon; a man who would tolerate a 
good deal if " taken the right way," but would 
bring all the intolerance of stupidity to bear 
upon an attempt to put him in the wrong by 
defending an unusual course with arguments 
which he did not see his way to answer. His 
portrait, it may be added, supports that estimate 
of him. It is the portrait of a very handsome 
man, but also of a very silly man, sure to be 
baffled by new ideas, or even by old ideas if 
presented to him in a new shape. He might 

23 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

have done well, and gone to his grave universally 
respected if only he could have passed through 
life without ever having to cope with a moral 
or intellectual emergency. Unfortunately for 
his reputation, the unexpected happened; and 
he first lost his temper, and then sulked — a 
ludicrously cantankerous figure. 

Nor was his wife much more fit to be the 
mother than he to be the father of a boy of preco- 
cious and eccentric genius. ' ' Mild and tolerant, yet 
narrow-minded," was her son's ultimate verdict 
on her. Her fixed ideas were not the same as 
her husband's; but they were equally fixed, and 
equally foolish, — the foolish fixed ideas which 
prevailed in the county society of the period. 
The noblest work of God, in her opinion, was the 
successful sportsman. She thought that, in the 
circles in which she moved, a man's worth should 
be measured by the contents of his game-bag; 
and she had a difficulty in applying any more 
subtle test. She scolded her son and drove him 
to the pursuit of fish and birds; he bribed the 
game-keeper to catch the fish and shoot the birds 
for him, while he lay under a tree with a book. 

It would be absurd, however, to base a theory 
of an unhappy childhood on such an incident 
as that. The conflict between the boy's view 
that it was better to dream than to shoot, and 
the mother's view that dreaming was all nonsense 
and shooting the one thing needful, may be read 
as symbolical of graver conflicts to follow; but 
it meant little at the time. If there was a general 
24 



ANCESTORS AND PARENTS 

lack of sympathy for Shelley at Field Place, 
there was no particular oppression. On the 
whole he was free to go his own way and dream 
his own dreams, if he insisted; the dreams being 
of nothing more disturbing to the Philistine 
mind than ghosts, fairies, secret chambers, and 
haunted ruins. War with the world — the painful 
sense of being very different from other people 
in a society which held it to be the whole duty 
of man to resemble other men — was not to begin 
until he was sent to school. But then, to quote 
the familiar lines from the Dedication of " Laon 
and Cythna " : — 

Thoughts of great deeds were mine, dear 

Friend, when first 
The clouds which wrap this world from youth 

did pass. 
I do remember well the hour which hurst 
My spirifs sleep : a fresh May -dawn it was, 
When I walked forth upon the glittering grass. 
And wept, I knew not why ; until there rose 
From the near school-room, voices that alas ! 
Were hut one echo from a world of woes — 
The harsh and grating strife of tyrants and of foes. 

And then I clasped my hands and looked 

around — 
But none was near to mock my streaming 

eyes. 
Which poured their warm drops on the sunny 

ground — 

25 



THE RO^IANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

So xvithoui shame, I spake : — " / ivill he ivisCy 
And just, and free, and niihi, if in nie lies 
Siieh po'iCer, for I ^roic iveari/ to hehohi 
The selfish and the strong still ti/rannise 
Ulthout reproach or eheck.^^ I then con- 

t routed 
jMi/ tears, nuj heart greiv calm, and I teas meek 

and bold. 

And from that hour did I zvith earnest thought 
Heap knoicledge from forbidden mines of lore^ 
Yet nothing that my ti/rants kneiv or taught 
I eared to learn, but from that secret store 
Wrought linked ar}nour for )ni/ soul, before 
It might ivalk forth to icar among mankind ; 
Thus power and hope icere strengthened more 

and nunr 
]Vithin me. till there canu' upon )ny mind 
A sense of loneliness, a thirst zcith ivhich I pined. 

That is the poet's memory-picture of his 
school-days. He sees the school as the world 
in mmiatiire, and himself attacked and perse- 
cuted by the world — misunderstood, hunted, 
hounded, and mobbed — yet guarding his spirit 
unbroken, and resolving, not only to resist, but, 
in the end, to overcome the world. One does 
not, of coiu'se, expect the prose truth to corre- 
spond, in every detail, to the poetical fancy; 
but the resemblance is nevertheless very close, 
as we shall see when we dig up and array the 
testimony of sehool-fellows. 
26 



CHAPTER III 

THE ACADEMY FOR YOUNG GENTLEMEN 

Shelley's first school, after he had passed 
through the hands of a private tutor — a Mr. 
Edwards of Warnham — ^was Dr. Greenlaw's 
Academy for Young Gentlemen, at Sion House, 
Isieworth. Three of his school-fellows have re- 
corded their recollections of him : his cousin and 
biographer, Tom Medwin, Sir John Rennie, the 
engineer who built Waterloo Bridge, and a 
Mr. Gellibrand, who lived to be ninety-two, and 
to tell his story to Mr. Birrell, who communicated 
it to the Athenaeum on his informant's death in 
1884. 

Mr. Gellibrand 's principal recollection was 
that Shelley once wrote a set of Latin verses for 
him, but inserted a final line — Hos ego versiculos 
scripsi, sed non ego feci — which raised doubts as 
to their authorship, with the result that Dr. 
Greenlaw caned Mr. Gellibrand, and Mr. Gelli- 
brand punched Shelley's head. The only further 
detail is a picture of Shelley as " like a girl in 
boys' clothes, fighting with open hands, and 
rolling on the floor when flogged, not from the 
pain, but from a sense of indignity." 

Sir John Rennie's brief note, in his Auto- 
biography, is as follows : — 

27 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

" His imagination was always roving upon 
something romantic and extraordinary, such as 
spirits, fairies, fighting, etc., and he not un- 
frequently astonished his school-fellows by blow- 
ing up the boundary palings of the playground 
with gunpowder, also the lid of his desk in the 
middle of school-time, to the great surprise of 
Dr. Greenlaw himself and the whole school. In 
fact at times he was considered to be almost 
upon the borders of insanity; yet, with all this, 
when treated with kindness, he was very amiable, 
high-spirited, and generous." 

Medwin tells us rather more. He pictures the 
head-master as a " choleric man, of a sanguinary 
complexion, in a green old age, not wanting in 
good qualities, but very capricious in his temper, 
which, good or bad, was influenced by the daily 
occurrences of a domestic life, not the most 
harmonious, and of which his face was the 
barometer, and his hand the index." He says 
that the boys were " mostly the sons of London 
shopkeepers, of rude habits and coarse manners," 
who " made game " of Shelley's " girlishness " 
and despised him because he was not " one of 
them," and did not care to " enter into their 
sports, to wrangle, or fight; " and he thus 
pictures the scene of the new boy's arrival : — 

" All tormented him with questionings. There 
was no end to their mockery, when they found 
that he was ignorant of peg-top, or marbles, or 

28 



ACADEMY FOR YOUNG GENTLEMEN 

leap-frog, or hopscotch, much more of fives and 
cricket. One wanted him to spar, another to 
run a race with him. He was a tyro in both 
these accomphshments, and the only welcome 
of the Neophyte was a general shout of derision. 
To all these impertinences he made no reply, 
but, with a look of disdain written in his 
countenance, turned his back on his new asso- 
ciates, and, when he was alone, found relief in 
tears." 

A further picture, equally characteristic, is 
this : — 

" He passed among his school-fellows as a 
strange and unsocial being, for when a holiday 
relieved us from our tasks, and the other boys 
were engaged in such sports as the narrow limits 
of our prison-court allowed, Shelley, who entered 
into none of them, would pace backwards and 
forwards — I think I see him now — along the 
southern wall, indulging in various vague and 
undefined ideas, the chaotic elements, if I may 
say so, of what afterwards produced so beautiful 
a world." 

Furious Philistines, of the school of Cordy 
Jeaffreson, quote statements of that sort, and 
infer that Shelley was a " muff." Their ideal 
boy is Tom Brown, the wooden-headed police- 
man of a young society, rendering invaluable 
service to his generation by licking the Arthurs 

29 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

of his little world into shape, clapping stoppers 
on their individualities, and persuading them to 
model themselves on our admirable average 
men. They cannot see, any more than Tom 
Hughes himself could see, that the story of 
the moulding of Arthur into a sort of refined 
and etherealized Tom Brown, is one of the 
most pathetic things in literature, — ^that Arthur 
was worthy of better things, just as his pro- 
totype. Dean Stanley, was worthy of a better 
fate than to become a courtier theologian whose 
occasional bursts of broad-minded tolerance 
never quite prevented his intellect from letting 
" I dare not " wait upon " I would." 

Shelley, however, though he differed widely 
from Tom Brown, and hardly less widely from 
Arthur (whose conversion to cricket is presented 
to us as an event of hardly less world-shaking 
significance than Constantine's conversion to 
Christianity), was very far from a "muff." He 
lacked neither physical nor moral courage, and 
he had all the high-spirited vitality which belongs 
to boyhood. One sees that from the stories just 
related of his attempts to blow up his desk and 
blow down the palings; and, in truth, he chiefly 
differed from other boys in the possession of 
certain precocious sentiments and curiosities. 

His view of flogging — that the pain was nothing 
to the degradation — is just the view that grown 
men might be relied upon to express if it were 
proposed so to punish them for exceeding the 
speed-limit in their motors. His view of 
30 



ACADEMY FOR YOUNG GENTLEMEN 

games was approximately Swift's view, — that 
" games are the recreations of people who do 
not think." The world, he felt, was so " full 
of a number of things " that it was absurd to 
waste time on such trivialities as pegtops and 
marbles. Elderly gentlemen might appropri- 
ately play with marbles or pegtops (just as 
elderly gentlemen nowadays play golf), in order 
to divert their minds from anxiety as to the 
price of stocks and shares; but why should a 
boy do so when life lay like a fairy land, begin- 
ning at his door, and inviting him to explore it ? 
Gunpowder, electricity, burning-glasses, micro- 
scopes, and " penny dreadfuls," — all these things 
appealed to Shelley's imagination as marbles and 
pegtops did not; and, if neither burning-glasses 
nor penny dreadfuls were to hand, he would far 
rather dream than play. 

So he argued with himself; but it would 
have been idle for him to argue thus with 
his associates. They had their own standards, 
and would not judge him by any other. It 
was everybody's business to be exactly like 
everybody else; and the new boy must con- 
form or be harried. Shelley did not conform, 
and was harried, as a cat might be by a 
pack of hounds, until Sion House became, as 
Medwin says, " a perfect hell to him." That 
is practically all that there is to be said about 
his life at Sion House; and the same thing will 
have to be said over again, albeit with certain 
qualifications, when we follow him to Eton, where 

31 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

he was sent in 1804, — Goodall being then head- 
master, and the more famous Keate the master 
of the Lower School in which he was placed. 

The standards of Eton, of course, differed 
from those of Sion House. The doctrine that 
everybody must try to be exactly like every- 
body else ordained conformity with a somewhat 
different code ; and it was a doctrine which a boy 
of character could overcome, as he rose in the 
school, winning applause in the act of over- 
coming it. The rebel, that is to say, against the 
tyranny of the mob might ultimately rise to 
distinction as a rebel against the authority of 
masters; and that, in so far as one can sum the 
matter up in a sentence, is what Shelley did. 
Like Byron at Harrow, he " was a most unpopular 
boy but led latterly ; " like Byron, too, he was, at 
one time, within an ace of being expelled; like 
Byron, finally, he was called an " atheist," 
though he did not, like Byron, regard the 
epithet as offensive. 

But this is to anticipate. The story of Shelley's 
Eton days requires a chapter to itself. 



82 



CHAPTER IV 

ETON 

The best known of the Eton stories about 
Shelley is the story of his fight, related by Captain 
Gronow : — 

" It was announced one morning that Shelley, 
the future poet, had actually accepted wager of 
battle from Sir Thomas Styles. Whether he 
had received an insult, and that vast disparity 
in size gave him confidence, or that, over-full of 
the war-like descriptions of Homer's heroes, he 
was fired to imitate their exploits against some 
one or other, remains a secret. Meet, however, 
they did, after twelve, in the playing-fields. 
The usual preliminaries were arranged — a ring 
was formed, seconds and bottle-holders were all 
in readiness, and the combatants stood face to 
face. The tall lank figure of the poet towered 
above the diminutive thick-set little baronet by 
nearly a head and shoulders. In the first round 
no mischief was done; Sir Thomas seemed to be 
feeling his way, being naturally desirous of ascer- 
taining what his gigantic adversary was made 
of; and Shelley, though brandishing his long 
arms, had evidently no idea of their use in a 
pugilistic point of view. After a certain amount 
c 33 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

of sparring without effect, the combatants were 
invited by their seconds to take breath. The 
baronet did not hesitate to accept the offer to 
sit upon the knee of his second; but Shelley 
disdainfully declined to rest, and, calculating 
upon finishing the fight in a single blow, stalked 
round the ring, looking defiance at his little 
adversary. 

" Time was called, and the battle was renewed 
in earnest. The baronet, somewhat cautious, 
planted his first blow upon the chest of Shelley, 
who did not appear to relish it. However, 
though not a proficient in the art of self-defence 
he nevertheless went in, and knocked the little 
baronet off his legs, who lay sprawling upon 
the grass more dead than alive. Shelley's con- 
fidence increased ; he stalked round the ring as 
before, and spouted one of the defiant addresses 
usual with Homer's heroes when about to com- 
mence a single combat; the young poet, being 
a first-rate classical scholar, actually delivered 
the speech in the original Greek, to the no small 
amusement of the boys. In the second and last 
round, Styles went to work like a first-rate 
artist, and after slighter blows, delivered what 
is called in the prize-ring " a heavy slogger " on 
Shelley's bread-basket; this seemed positively 
to electrify the bard, for, I blush to say, he 
broke through the ring, and took to his heels 
with a speed that defied pursuit. His seconds, 
backers, and all who had witnessed the fight, 
joined in full cry after him, but he outran them 
34 



ETON 

all, and got safe to the house of his tutor, Mr. 
Bethel." 

The story was too dramatic to be left untold; 
but it is obviously untrue, and illustrates nothing 
except the mythopoeic instinct of schoolboys. 
If any reader of these pages imagines that the 
effect of a so-called " slogger " in the so-called 
" bread-basket " is to increase the velocity and 
general activity of the recipient, such a one 
should offer his own bread-basket to a friend 
(or, better still, to an enemy) for experiment, 
and make a careful note of the result. That 
said, we may pass on to better attested stories 
concerning the bullying of Shelley. 

Dr. Hawtrey, who, when Shelley was a small 
boy, was in one of the higher forms, and who 
grew up to succeed Keate (who had succeeded 
Goodall) in the head-mastership of Eton, may be 
our first, and principal witness. 

" I remember his sending for me one evening " 
(writes Arthur Duke Coleridge in his Eton in 
the ^Forties), " to invoke my authority as a 
sixth-form boy on behalf of a lad whose notorious 
oddity and awkwardness seemed to mark him 
out as a butt for all professional bullies. ' They 
used to call Shelley mad Shelley,'' he said. ' My 
belief is that what he had to endure at Eton 
made him a perfect devil.' " 

A doctrine developed by Hawtrey in a sermon 
C2 35 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

preached in the ehnpel, and afterwards privately 
printed, wherein he first spoke of the harm 
whieli might be done by " wanton abuse of 
authority," and then proceeded to denounce the 
errors belonging to *' mere strength of body," 
which are " more oppressive, more frequent, and 
always more mortifying to the sufferer." " The 
objects of such kind of ill-usage," he said, " are 
not those over whom there is any lawful or con- 
ventional right; they are the weak, the timid, 
the eccentric, and the unsociable." The effect 
of such treatment, he continued, upon a sensi- 
tive mind was often to " waste and devour it," 
until its victims fell into the error " of madly 
imagining that Christianity itself is a fable 
because those who call themselves Christians 
have acted, in pure recklessness, as if they were 
heathens." And then followed the instances : — 

" Two ^ such I knew in other days — one of 
them when I was too young to feel and under- 
stand what I do understand now. Both of them 
are long since gone to their account. The 
talents of the first, however abused, earned for 
him a reputation which will probably not perish 
while one language shall be spoken. But his 
life here w\as miserable from this kind of in- 
justice, and if his mind took a bias leading him 
to error — which the Almighty may forgive; for 
He is all merciful, and makes allowance for His 

^ The other was T. S. Walker, a brilliant classical scholar, 
who died young. 

36 



ETON 

creatures which we in our self-approving severity 
seldom make — they who remember those days 
well know how that mind was tortured, and 
how much the wantonness of persecution con- 
tributed to pervert its really noble and amiable 
qualities." 

The details of the persecution thus rhetorically 
sketched are not very easy to get at, but not 
very difficult to imagine. The best attested 
fact is that Shelley refused to fag for Henry 
Matthews, the subsequent author of The Diary 
of an Invalid ; and the fate of rebels of that 
order, though various, is uniformly painful. 
For the rest we hear of muddy footballs being 
kicked at Shelley in the corridors; of his books, 
or whatever he carried, being knocked out of 
his hands; of a mob surrounding him, bawling 
his name, and pointing derisive fingers at him : 
mere trifles, no doubt, to the harder natures, 
and not easily represented, in cold print, as 
serious, but infinitely tormenting to the weak, 
and sensitive, and self-conscious, giving them 
the impression that they are alone in a lonely 
world, and always will be — poor Pariahs in the 
midst of rough and insolent Brahmins. 

" I have seen him " (writes one of the wit- 
nesses) " surrounded, hooted, baited like a 
maddened bull, and, at this distance of time, 
I seem to hear ringing in my ears the cry which 
Shelley was wont to utter in his paroxysm of 
revengeful anger." 

87 



THE ROINIANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

The fury to \Yhich he was goaded is also said 
to have '* made his eyes flash Hke a tiger's, his 
cheeks grow pale as death, his hmbs quiver; " 
and there is a story of his ha\'ing, in one fit of 
passion, pinned one of his perseeutor's hands to 
a desk with a fork or a pen-knife. It is quite 
hkely that he tried to do something of the sort, 
but very unhkely that he aetually did it; and 
the one tiling really eertain is that, whereas 
bullying broke the spirit of T. S. Walker, it did 
not break Shelley's spirit. Tlie ordeal lasted 
for a year or two: but he lived through it, con- 
quered his right to inimolested eccentricity, and 
so reached the stage at which Hawtrey de- 
scribes him as having been '* a perfect devil." 

Allowance nuist be made here, however, for 
clerical rhetoric and the pedagogic point of 
view. Hawtrey was an excellent man — a sym- 
pathetic schoolmaster, and a tolerant divine; 
but still he was both divine and schoolmaster, 
and consequently committed to certain fixed 
opinions with regard alike to theological specu- 
lation and the sinfulness of little sins. He, no 
less than the boys, would have preferred Shelley 
to be like other people, though he disapproved 
of the boys' methods of compelling him to be 
so; and though he was too fair-minded — one 
may even say too nuich of a gentleman — to 
denounce him as an enemy of the human race, he 
could not help weeping over him as a backslider. 
"NMiether the case for tears would have stood the 
test of cross-examination is another matter; and 
88 



ETON 

Hawtrey certainly could have been confronted 
with witnesses who gave very different evidence. 
" I loved Shelley," says one of them, " for his 
kindliness and affectionate ways." " I always 
liked him," says another; " he was such a good, 
generous, open-hearted fellow;" while Canon 
Harvey, who fagged for ?iim (or was supposed 
to do so), spoke of him as a most kind and con- 
siderate fag-master. There is clearly no trace of 
the " perfect devil " in these depositions. The 
epithet, if founded on fact at all, must be based 
upon breaches of discipline and defiance of 
authority; so we will enumerate, and tabulate, 
as far as the records permit, the incidents which 
Hawtrey might have cited in support of his 
allegation : — 

1. Shelley hid a savage bull-dog in the desk 
of Dr. Keate. 

2. Shelley pursued the college cook with a 
roasting spit. 

3. Shelley stood up and cursed King George III. 

4. Shelley set alight to a tree in the college 
grounds with a burning-glass. 

5. Shelley procured an electric battery, and 
lured his tutor into laying hands on it unawares, 
and so receiving an electric shock. 

6. Shelley, when summoned to his tutor's 
rooms to be reprimanded, spilt corrosive acid on 
the carpet. 

That is all that one can rake together from all 

39 



THE ROIM ANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

the available sources. It amounts, after all, to 
very little; and there is no reason to doubt that 
each act received, at the time, the punishment 
Avhioh it seemed to call for. Tlie secretion of 
the bull-dog in Keate's desk, for instance, strikes 
one as no worse a misdemeanour (though a more 
himiorous one) than that of Thring, the future 
head-master of ITppiughjim, who tied a string to 
Ilawtrey's own bell-rope, and rang it repeatedly 
and surreptitiously, with the result that the 
class was interrupted, every live minutes or so, 
by the arrival of Hawtre^'s servant to inquire 
what Avas wanted: and if Shelley's offences were 
no more grave than Thring's, then '' perfect 
devil " is as unfit an epithet for the one offender 
as for the other. 

Nor is there a a\ ord of truth in Cordy Jeaff re- 
son's statement that Shelley left Eton in dis- 
grace in consequence of this, or some other, act of 
insubordination. His own letters show that he 
was still at Eton in the term immediately pre- 
ceding that in which he went into residence at 
Oxford ; and though it is doubtless true that 
his behaviour was of an embarrassing ebullience, 
it is equally true that he did his work creditably, 
being specially remarked for his prohciency in 
Latin verse, and played a proper part on cere- 
monial occasions, such as speech-day and IMontem, 
while, at the same time, cultivating intellectual 
interests outside the classical curriculum. There 
is a fancy picture of him by Moultrie, who 
came to Eton while his memory was still 
40 



ETON 

green there, as " a stripling, pale and lustrous 
eyed " :— 

Small sympathy he owned or felt, I ween. 
With sj)orts or pastimes of his young compeers, 
Nor 7ningling in their studies oft was seen, 
Nor shared their joys or sorrows, hopes or 

fears : 
Pensive he was and grave beyond his years, 
And happiest seemed when in some shady 

nook 
(His wild sad eyes suffused with silent tears), 
O^er some mysterious and forbidden book 
Tie pored until his frame with strong emotion shook. 

The " forbidden book," according to Medwin, 
was generally a handbook of chemistry. lie 
quotes a note to himself from Shelley's father 
in which he writes : " I have returned the book 
on chemistry, as it is a forbidden thing at 
Eton." It may just as well, however, have been 
(Godwin's Political Justice, which Shelley is be- 
lieved to have read at Eton (and wliieh Eton 
masters would probably have regarded as an 
improper book for Eton boys to possess) ; or it 
may have been one of those " penny dreadfuls," 
as we should call them, through which Shelley 
had, already, at Sion House, approached the 
literature of the imagination. All the lines of 
thought opened up by all the books that came 
into his hands seem, at this stage, to have 
attracted him equally in turn. 

41 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

He was a scholar, of course, — a clever boy at 
Eton becomes a scholar as inevitably as a child 
picks up a foreign language from a foreign nurse. 
Beyond that, however, it would have been 
impossible to predict what " particular kind of 
man," as Alfred de Musset puts it, he was likely 
to become. There was equal promise in his 
many-sided precocity of a grave and earnest 
political philosopher of the style of John Stuart 
Mill; of a brilliant scientific showman of the 
calibre of Professor Pepper; of a purveyor of 
stories of mystery and crime of the school of 
Messrs. Heath Hosken and William Le Queux. 
He was destined, in fact, for greater accomplish- 
ments than even the greatest of these; but it 
was in the class of Messrs. Le Queux and Heath 
Hosken that he first competed by writing and 
publishing Zastrozzi. 

One need not trouble to say anything about 
Zastrozzi, except that it was obviously inspired 
by the writings of " Monk " Lewis and Mrs. 
Radcliffe; but two of Shelley's letters about it 
are worth quoting. The first is to Messrs. 
Longman, to whom he writes : — 

'' My object in writing it was not pecuniary, 
as I am independent, being the heir of a gentle- 
man of large fortune in the county of Sussex, 
and prosecuting my studies as an Oppidan at 
Eton; from the many leisure hours I have, I 
have taken an opportunity of indulging my 
favourite propensity in writing. Should it pro- 
42 



ETON 

duce any pecuniary advantages, so much the 
better for me ; I do not expect it." 

The second letter is to Edward Fergus Graham, 
a yroUge of Timothy Shelley, then living in 
London, and studying music at Timothy Shelley's 
expense. To him Shelley writes : — 

" We will all go in a posse to the bookseller's 
in Mr. Grove's barouche and four. — Show them 
that we are no Grub Street garetteers. . . . 

" We will not be cheated again — let us come 
over Jock, for if he will not give me a devil of 
a price for my Poem, and at least £60 for my 
new Romance in three Volumes, the dog shall 
not have them. 

" Pouch the reviewers — £10 will be sufficient 
I should suppose, and that I can with the 
greatest ease repay when we meet at Passion 
Week. Send the reviews in which Zastrozzi is 
mentioned to Field Place, the British Review is 
the hardest, let that be pouched well. — ^My note 
of hand if for any larger sum is quite at your 
service, as it is of consequence in fiction to 
establish your name as high as you can in 
the literary lists." 

The " Jock " here mentioned is presumably 
J. Robinson, who, for whatever reason, pub- 
lished Zastrozzi instead of Messrs. Longman. 
His school-fellow, Mr. Packe, says that he re- 
ceived £40 for it, and that "with part of the 

43 



rilK FxOMANTlC T.IFK OF SHELLEY 

proooods ho ii"avo a most luaguitioout baiiquet 
to eight of his friends, among ^vhom I was 
iueluded/' On the Nvhole, it is easier to behevo 
that Shelley gave the banquet tlian that the 
piibhslier prvnided the means of paying for it; 
for pubhshers are n\en of busiiiess. That is a 
detail, however, and does not matter. What 
does matter sutVieiently to arrest the ivader is 
the general tone of the letter : the burst of high 
spirits whieh it manifests. 

** Foueh," of course, is the slang of tlie pericxi 
for " tip." "NVe tu\d Byron, in one of his letters, 
speaking of the ntvessity of '* pouching " an 
Eton bo) : and the Eton boy's belief that the 
whole of Fleet Street can be corrupteii with 
a ten-poiuid note is delightfully boyish if not 
sptx'itically Etonian. It is a curious coincidence, 
too. that Byron claimed in jest (in Don Juan) 
to have corrupted the editor of that Brithh 
Ktiinv which Shelley speaks of as ** the haixiest," 
with precisely the sun\ which Shelley judged 
suthcient for the corruption of the entirt^ litenm' 
Fress. But the main thing notable, after all, 
is the mental and moral condition in which the 
letter shows Shelley to liave ended his Eton 
carxx^r. 

It shows that Hawtrty must have exaggt^rated, 
not indeed the pei-stvution intlicted upon him 
as a small boy, but the efftx't of that pei-stxution 
upon his character and opinions. Though his 
sch<.x^l-days doubtless wert\ as Packe put it, 
** more adventurous than happy," he does not 
44 



ETON 

write, in his last year, as a boy whose adventures 
have eruslied, or saddened, or embittered him; 
and the idea that he lost his faith in Christianity 
beeaiise Christians knoeked books from under 
his arm and kieked muddy footballs at him does 
not earry eonvietion. Bullies do not, at Eton 
any more than any^vhere else, do that sort of 
thing in the name of Christianity, or make loud 
Christian professions while doing it; and Haw- 
trey's theory of the association of ideas in 
Shelley's mind requires that missing link, to be 
eomplete. 

Hawtrey's doctrine, in short, is vitiated by 
the common clerical assumption that, when a 
man of genius differs from a clergyman on a 
point of speculative theology, the clergyman is 
necessarily in the right and should show the 
breadth and depth of his sympathy with genius 
by weeping over the man of genius as a back- 
slider. The general truth is, however, that 
clergymen have no better title than, say, solicitors 
or stockbrokers — or dustmen or district visitors 
— to detine the limits within which the human 
intelligence shall be free to "' energize " ; and the 
particular truth is that Shelley's questionings of 
theological propositions were due to the natural 
activity of his mind. 

It was as natural for him to exercise his mind 
as it is for some people to exercise their limbs, — 
as natural for him to think as for other boys to 
run, or to play leap-frog. He asked questions, 
and, getting no satisfactory answers to them, 

45 



rilK PxO^lANTlC MFK OF SHELLFA' 

thought the nunv. — trying to povfoot hiiusoU as 
ai\ iutolUvtual gUidiatov in tho Si\nio spirit in 
>vhioh other boys try to perfect thomsolvos at 
cricket. Theiv is no nwson to look (or any n\oiT 
iwondite cxphuiation of his hetenxioxy, for 
people ^vho think are ahvays heter^xiox. Shelley's 
case in that respect is pix^tty much hke the case 
of Mr. Hernaixi Shaw. 

If he did not think as wittily as ^Ir. Bernard 
Shaw, at least he thought as joyously. Thought 
was a joyous adventiuv to him. — the most 
joyous part of the joyous advent mv of life. lie 
went to the adventinv in the true spirit of tvii 
adventuivr; and that temper was probably at 
its keenest at the time when he left Eton for 
Oxfon.1. 



4G 



CHAPTKR V 

UNlVKUSirV COl.l.KC.E. OXFORD 

OxK may holp oneself to realize the Oxford of 
Shelley's time by enumerating some of his eon- 
temporaries. Arnold of Corpus was the future 
headmaster of Rugby, and Keble of Corpus 
was the future author of The Chri.^tian Year. 
\M\ately of Oriel was the future Arehbishop. 
and Milman of B.N.C. was the future Dean. 
Senior of Magdalen was Nassau Senior the 
Economist, and Loekhart of Balliol was Scott's 
son-in-law and biographer. 

Those were the great men among the under- 
graduates of the date, — the men who graduated 
in high honours, won University prizes, retltx^ted 
credit on their respective colleges, and pro- 
ceeded, after graduation, by straight paths, to 
distinction and success in life. There is no 
evidence, however, that Shelley knew any one 
of them: and there arc few of them with whom 
one can picture hin\ associating cordially. He 
and Wiately, perhaps, might have discovered 
points of syn\pathy: but Keble's business in 
life was to be to preach at, and Arnold's to 
suninion to his study and tlog, those who, like 
Shelley, were *' tameless, and swift, and proud." 

Among out-college men, Shelley's only friends 

47 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

appear to have been a few Etonians. It is said 
that he was always glad to see them when they 
called, but equally glad to lose sight of them 
when they went. The men of his own college, 
too, saw very little of him, — always excepting 
his intimate friend, and future biographer, 
Thomas Jefferson Hogg, who is almost our sole 
witness for this period of his life. 

The romantic Trelawny, whose acquaintance 
we shall make presently, speaks of Hogg as a 
hard-headed man of the world who looked upon 
literature with contempt. It is quite possible 
that he gave casual acquaintances that im- 
pression in later life, when he was a Revising 
Barrister and a Municipal Corporation Com- 
missioner. One would infer as much from the 
fact that his wife, Jane Williams (the widow of 
the Williams who had shared a house with the 
Shelleys in Italy), only accepted his offer of 
marriage on condition that he should first 
" qualify himself " by a long course of con- 
tinental travel. His acceptance of the condi- 
tion, however, betokens a character not altogether 
unromantic. Even in those hard-headed days 
he said that he regarded the Greek language, 
equally with the English newspapers, as "a 
prime necessary of life; " and one imagines that, 
in 1810, he would have been remarked not only 
as an ebullient, but also as a romantic and 
chivalrous young man. 

He and Shelley made each other's acquaint- 
ance by sitting next to each other in hall, though 
48 



UNIVERSITY COLLEGE, OXFORD 

Hogg assures us that " such famiharity was 
unusual " — an interesting precedent for the al- 
leged rule that one Oxford man must not pre- 
sume even to rescue another from drowning 
unless he has been introduced to him. They 
fell into conversation on the comparative value 
of German and Italian literature, and, after 
hall, continued the discussion in Hogg's rooms, 
and sat up nearly all night over it, — each of 
them ultimately confessing to the other that he 
had argued for the sake of arguing, and without 
even a superficial knowledge of the subject. 
On the following afternoon they met by appoint- 
ment in Shelley's rooms; and after that, they 
were inseparable. 

Their Oxford, it must be remembered, was the 
early Oxford in which no games were played. 
There was no " tubbing " in those days, and no 
practising at the nets. Unless men haunted the 
prize-ring and the rat-pit, their one way of 
amusing themselves was to walk and talk, and 
no sporting " shop " could cast its monotonous 
shadow over their conversation. The question 
whether the college eight was more likely to 
bump or to be bumped did not arise, and no 
man burdened his brain with tables of " records " 
or " averages." The talk was about literature, 
about philosophy, and, sometimes, about re- 
ligion ; and daring young thinkers hammered out 
for themselves a good many subjects on which 
they were not called upon to be examined. That 
was the case with Arnold and Keble of Corpus 
D 49 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

no less than with Shelley and Hogg of Univ; 
though the latter pair of friends pursued their 
speculations with more independence and more 
courage, — perhaps one should also say with 
stronger prepossessions in favour of intellectual 
honesty. 

Shelley's activities, indeed, were marvellous 
and multitudinous. Hogg says that he read (not 
for " the Schools " but for his pleasure) about 
sixteen hours a day ; also that he was continually 
making malodorous or sensational chemical and 
electrical experiments, — so meriting the style 
of " Stinks Man," elaborated by the wit of a 
later generation; also that he took long country 
walks, returning so late and so tired that he 
" cut hall " and curled himself up to sleep on 
the hearth-rug. We know, furthermore, that he 
wrote a great deal in both prose and verse; 
and there are, finally, indications that he found 
time to be one of the rowdiest men in a rather 
rowdy college. 

Hogg, it is true, repudiates this last charge. 
Shelley, he says, had been nicknamed " the 
Atheist " at Eton, not on account of atheism, but 
on account of rowdiness,^ and certain Etonians 
asked him whether he intended to continue to 
be that kind of Atheist at Oxford. Whereto he 
reports Shelley replying : " Certainly not. There 
is no motive for it; there would be no use in it; 
they are very civil to us here ; they never inter- 
fere with us." Even in Hogg's narrative, how- 

1 The veracity of this story is questioned by Etonians, 
50 



UNIVERSITY COLLEGE, OXFORD 

ever, there appear hints of differences with the 
dons, none too deferentially expressed. There 
is a story of Shelley walking out of a lecture- 
room because the lecture bored him, and up- 
setting a chair as he went; and there is the 
story of his interview with the tutor who exhorted 
him to read Aristotle : — 

" ' You must begin Aristotle's Ethics, and 
then you may go on to his other treatises. It is 
of the utmost importance to be well acquainted 
with Aristotle.' This he repeated so often that 
I was quite tired, and at last I said, ' Must I 
care about Aristotle ? What if I do not mind 
Aristotle ? ' I then left him, for he seemed to 
be in great perplexity." 

That is not the manner of a man who likes 
dons, or whom dons like; and the practical 
importance of the incompatibilities between 
Shelley and the dons will soon appear. Mean- 
while we may note other evidence which is to 
the same effect as Hogg's testimony " only more 
so." Ridley, then a junior Fellow, and after- 
wards Master of University, wrote, at the time, 
that " there were but few, if any, who were 
not afraid of Shelley's strange and fantastic 
pranks; " and this view is confirmed by a 
niece of the Master of 1810, who was then on 
a visit to her uncle. She was a Miss Grant, 
afterwards Mrs. Smith, and her reminiscences, 
to which Professor Dowden could not refer, were 
edited by Lady Strachey and published by Mr. 

D 2 51 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

Murray, in 1898, under the title of Memoirs of 
a Highland Lady. 

Miss Grant, indeed, was equally impressed by 
the " pranks " of the undergraduates and by the 
dulness and inadequacy of the dons; and as 
we are presently to see Shelley and the dons 
at open war, we may as well have her estimate 
of both parties to the dispute before us. 
" Stupidity and frivolity," she says, were the 
distinguishing characteristics of the latter; and 
she particularizes : — 

" It was not a good style ; there was little 
talent and less polish and no sort of knowledge 
of the wprld. Of the lesser clergy there were 
young witty ones, odious, and young learned 
ones, bores, and elderly ones, pompous; all, of 
all grades, kind and hospitable. But the Chris- 
tian pastor, humble and gentle, and considerate 
and self-sacrificing, occupied with his duties, and 
filled with the ' charity ' of his Master, had no 
representative, as far as I could see, among 
these dealers in old wines, rich dinners, fine 
china, and massive plate." 

She adds that " the education was suited to 
the divinity " : — 

"A sort of supervision was said to be kept 
over the young riotous community, and to a 
certain extent the Proctors of the University and 
the Deans of the different colleges did see that 
no very open scandals were committed. There 
52 



UNIVERSITY COLLEGE, OXFORD 

were rules that had in a general way to be obeyed, 
and there were lectures that must be attended, 
but as for care to give high aims, provide re- 
fining amusements, give a worthy tone to the 
character of responsible beings, there was none 
ever even thought of. . . . The only care the 
Heads appeared to take with regard to the 
young minds they were supposed to be placed 
where they were and paid well to help to form, 
was to keep the persons of the students at the 
greatest possible distance. They conversed with 
them never, invited them to their homes never, 
spoke or thought about them never. A per- 
petual bowing was their only intercourse ; a bow 
of humble respect acknowledged by one of stiff 
condescension limited the intercourse of the old 
heads and the young, generally speaking." 

When we come to see Shelley tilting at the 
champions of orthodoxy, this impartial picture 
of their manners and customs will be instructive. 
Meanwhile we will glance at Miss Grant's picture 
of the manners and customs of the undergradu- 
ates. Several of them, it seems (though Shelley 
was not of the number), tried to get up flirta- 
tions with her when she sat under a mulberry 
tree in the Master's garden. One sought to 
attract her attention by declaiming poetry from 
the window ; another by tootling on a horn ; and 
more than once Miss Grant found herself, in a 
corner of the garden, "chatting and laughing 
merrily with about a dozen commoners." 

53 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

Next, after relating this pleasant incident, 
Miss Grant describes how her young friends 
" ragged " the Dean : — 

" Mr. Rowley, having made himself disagree- 
able to some of his pupils, who found it suit 
their healths to take long rides in the country, 
they all turned out one night to hunt the fox 
under his window. A Mr. Fox, in a red waist- 
coat and some kind of a skin for a cap, was let 
loose on the grass in the middle of the quadrangle, 
with the whole pack of his fellow-students barking 
around him. There were cracking whips, shrill 
whistles, loud halloos, and louder hark-aways, 
quite enough to frighten the dignitaries. When 
those great persons assembled to encounter this 
confusion, all concerned skipped off up the 
different staircases, like rats to their holes, and 
I don't believe any of them were ever regularly 
discovered. . . . My uncle was very mild in 
his rule; yet there were circumstances which 
roused the indignation of the quietest colleges." 

The Mr. Rowley against whom the rioters 
demonstrated was Shelley's tutor, so that the 
climax follows naturally ; — 

" The ringleader in every species of mischief 
within our grave walls was Mr. Shelley, after- 
wards so celebrated, though I should think to 
the end half-crazy. He began his career by every 
kind of wild prank at Eton, and when kindly 
remonstrated with by his tutor, repaid the 
well-meant private admonition by spilling an 
54 



UNIVERSITY COLLEGE, OXFORD 

acid over the carpet of that gentleman's study, 
a new purchase, which he thus completely 
destroyed. He did no deed so mischievous 
at University, but he was very insubordinate, 
always infringing some rule, the breaking of which 
he knew could not be overlooked. He was 
slovenly in his dress, and when spoken to about 
these and other irregularities, he was in the 
habit of making such extraordinary gestures, 
expressive of his humility under reproof, as to 
upset first the gravity, and then the temper, of 
the lecturing tutor. Of course these scenes 
reached unpleasant lengths, and when he pro- 
ceeded so far as to paste up atheistical squibs 
on the chapel doors, it was considered necessary 
to expel him." 

The hour for expulsion, however, was not yet ; 
but it is significant to find Shelley behaving 
himself, from the first, in such a way as to make 
the dons glad of any handle which he might 
subsequently give them. They probably ob- 
jected to his addiction to " Stinks," for the 
Natural Sciences had not yet come into their 
kingdom at the Universities; and rowdiness is 
(most naturally) doubly offensive to dons if the 
offender is rude when they rebuke him. Still 
there was, for the moment, no handle for the 
dons to seize; and Shelley was enjoying himself. 
He would have liked, as, indeed, most of us 
have at some period felt that we should like, to 
remain at Oxford for ever. 

" It would be a cruel calamity," he once said 

55 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

to Hogg, as if in ominous anticipation of what 
was to happen, "to be interrupted by some 
untoward accident, to be compelled to quit our 
calm and agreeable retreat ; " and he continued : — 

" I regret only that the period of our residence 
is limited to four years ; I wish they would revive, 
for our sake, the old term of six or seven years. 
If we consider how much there is for us to learn, 
we shall allow that the longer period would still 
be far too short." 

He rejoiced, too, in the privilege of sporting 
his oak, — " the oak alone goes far towards making 
this place a paradise; " and the high spirits in 
which he conducted his metaphysical specula- 
tions are evident from Hogg's familiar story of 
his attempt to test, as it were, by experiment, 
that Platonic doctrine that all our knowledge is 
" reminiscence " of things known in a previous 
existence, — that, as Wordsworth puts it, " Heaven 
lies about us in our infancy " and " our birth is 
but a sleep and a forgetting." 

He snatched a baby, so Hogg tells us, out 
of its mother's arms on Magdalen Bridge, and, 
while the mother clung desperately to its 
swaddling clothes in an agony of terror lest it 
should be dropped into the Cherwell, he gravely 
questioned her : — 

" Can your baby tell us anything about pre- 
existence, madam ? " he asked, in a piercing 
voice, and with a wistful look. 

" He cannot speak, sir," answered the mother 
stolidly. 
56 



UNIVERSITY COLLEGE, OXFORD 

" Surely he can speak if he will," Shelley- 
insisted, " for he is only a few weeks old. He 
cannot have entirely forgotten the use of speech 
in so short a time." 

But the mother was as firm as the under- 
graduate. 

"It is not for me to argue with college 
gentlemen," she rejoined, " but babies of that 
age never do speak so far as / know; " and with 
that she begged that her infant might be returned 
to her; and so the incident terminated. 

Many similar stories of Shelley's strange say- 
ings and doings in his country walks might be 
told if space allowed; but those who are curious 
to read them must be referred to Hogg's un- 
deservedly neglected pages. They all show 
Shelley as a wild youth, — but of a delightfully 
fantastic wildness, — long-haired in an age in which 
it was the fashion for men to wear their hair 
close-cropped like grooms — standing, or rather, 
walking, aloof from the conventional studies and 
normal amusements of Oxford, but rejoicing in his 
newly-found freedom, and the adventures which 
it brought. In particular we find him pursuing 
and rejoicing in literary adventures. 

These were at first smiled upon by an un- 
suspecting father. Timothy Shelley, M.P., when 
he brought his son to Oxford, took him to the shop 
of Messrs. Munday and Slatter, booksellers, in 
the High, and introduced him to one of the 
partners. 

" My boy here," he said, pointing proudly to 
the long-haired, wild-eyed youth, — " my boy here 

57 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

has a literary turn. He is already an author, and 
do pray indulge him in his printing freaks." 

The member for Shoreham imagined, appar- 
ently, that his son, having begun his literary career 
by writing a penny dreadful, would continue to 
write penny dreadfuls until he entered Parlia- 
ment, and settled down. Apparently, too, that 
was the kind of literature that Timothy Shelley 
understood and approved of. What he did not 
understand was that his son was growing up in 
a sense in which he himself had never grown up, 
and that certain influences, which he himself had 
never undergone, were at work on him. 

The first influence was that of books — ^books 
which, from the point of view of Timothy Shelley, 
were merely dull and stodgy incumbrances on 
the shelves. Instead of Aristotle the boy had 
been reading Locke and Hume. Hume, in 
particular, had waked him, as it waked Kant, 
from " dogmatic slumbers " ; but he had not 
Kant's metaphysical narcotic to send him to 
sleep again. And Hume's scepticism is rather 
disturbing to intelligent readers who have been 
reared in orthodoxy, especially if they have not 
the Critique of Pure Reason to check it. That 
was Shelley's case ; and that was the first influ- 
ence which was tempting him to put pen to 
paper for other purposes than the composition 
of those penny dreadfuls which satisfied his 
father's simple tastes. 

The second influence was love ; and that obliges 
us to interrupt our account of Shelley's Oxford 
career in order to speak of his first love affair. 
58 



CHAPTER VI 

FIRST LOVE AND NEW THEOLOGY 

Shelley's very first love appears to have been 
a young woman in what such young women call 
" the confectionery." Our authority is Gronow, 
who reports Shelley as saying to him : " Gronow, 
do you remember the beautiful Martha, the Hebe 
of Spiers' ? She was the loveliest girl I ever saw, 
and I loved her to distraction." On another 
page Gronow tells us how he and Keate, after 
Keate's retirement from the headmastership, 
chuckled together over the memory of a flirta- 
tion between this same Martha and Sumner — 
though whether the Sumner who became Arch- 
bishop of Canterbury or only the Sumner who 
became Bishop of Winchester does not appear. 
Martha must, indeed, have been a girl who 
adorned the confectionery to have attracted 
two admirers of such mark; but unhappily the 
records of their rivalry are lost. Martha left 
no mark on either life; and the first feminine 
influence which Shelley underwent was that of 
Harriet Grove. 

She was Shelley's cousin; and Medwin, who 
was cousin to both of them, speaks of her as 
" like one of Shakespeare's women — like some 
Madonna of Raphael." She came on a visit to 

59 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

Field Place, and Shelley afterwards stayed at her 
father's house in London. It is agreed that she 
was of such an ethereal beauty as was likely to 
efface all thoughts of the girl in the confectioner's 
shop; but beyond that fact, one gets no very 
clear impression of her. Her charms are as 
elusive as those of Byron's Mary Chaworth ; and 
the effect of them was less enduring, though it 
was very real for a season, and Shelley dreamt 
love's young dream in the baseless belief that 
he had found, in this beautiful girl, an ideal 
intellectual companion. 

Harriet, one gathers, was at first dazzled — it 
would have been strange if she had not been. 
She was just clever enough to begin to under- 
stand the boy who was different from other 
people — ^not clever enough to understand him 
when he developed beyond the stage which he 
had reached at the time of their moonlight 
walks in Timothy Shelley's and the Duke of 
Norfolk's parks. She heard him gladly when 
he talked of haunted ruins, spectral apparitions, 
and the rest of the imaginative stock-in-trade of 
the writer of penny dreadfuls. She is said to 
have collaborated with him in Zastrozzi. But he 
grew up faster than she did; and presently he 
frightened her. 

They were too young to be engaged; but 
there was an " understanding," and a corre- 
spondence — and Shelley's communications were 
no ordinary love-letters. He had been reading 
Locke and Hume; and the conceptions of tiiose 
60 



FIRST LOVE AND NEW THEOLOGY 

philosophers found their way into his letters. 
The boy imagined that the girl was, like himself, 
a seeker after truth; but the girl, though she 
joined for a moment in the quest, was soon 
scared by the quarry started. She had " the will 
to believe," but not the will to know. Ideas made 
her shudder far more than ghosts and ancestral 
curses could. She ran in terror to her elders, 
and sought counsel from them with the result 
which might have been foreseen. Her father 
said that the correspondence must cease and the 
acquaintance be discontinued. 

He was obeyed. It would even seem that 
Harriet obeyed him without much show of 
reluctance. One gathers, at any rate, from one 
of Shelley's letters to Hogg, that his sister Eliza- 
beth pleaded his cause with Harriet, but pleaded 
it in vain. This is what Harriet is reported to 
have said : — 

" Even supposing I take your representation 
of your brother's qualities and sentiments, which 
as you coincide in and admire, I may fairly 
imagine to be exaggerated, although you may not 
be aware of the exaggeration ; what right have /, 
admitting that he is so superior, to enter into an 
intimacy which must end in delusive disappoint- 
ment, when he finds how really inferior I am to 
the being which his heated imagination has 
pictured ? " 

Perhaps that paragraph is more helpful to us 

61 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

in picturing Harriet Grove than anything else 
that we know about her. Her superficiahty 
shines through it, hke the sun bursting through 
a cloud. The common sense of the weak-minded 
and inadequate is convincingly confused in it 
with the qualities to which women apply the 
epithet " cattish." But, of course, Harriet's 
heart was her own to dispose of; and it was not 
long before she did dispose of it to a country 
squire named Heylar. This is how Shelley 
conveys the news to Hogg:— 

" She is gone ! She is lost to me for ever ! 
She^ married ! Married to a clod of earth ; she 
will become as insensible herself; all those fine 
capabilities will moulder. Let us speak no more 
on the subject." 

But if Shelley spoke no more on the subject, 
that is only because he had already said so 
much that nothing remained to be said. He had 
raved at length ; but the only examples of his 
ravings which it is worth while to give are those 
which show how disappointment in love prepared 
the way for the incident which led to his expulsion 
from Oxford. He conceived of himself as the 
victim, not of woman's fickleness, but of man's 
bigotry. 

He still speaks eloquently of love : — 

" Love ! dearest, sweetest power ! how much 
are we indebted to thee ! How much superior 
62 



FIRST LOVE AND NEW THEOLOGY 

are even thy miseries to the pleasures which arise 
from other sources ! how much superior to ' fat 
contented ignorance ' is even the agony which 
thy votaries experience." 

But this invocation of love is sandwiched 
between two denunciations of bigotry and an- 
nouncements that the lover is taking, or means 
to take, the field against it. This, for instance : — 

" I shall not read Bishop Pretyman or any 
more of them, unless I have some particular 
reason. Bigots will not argue; it destroys the 
very nature of the thing to argue; it is contrary 
to faith. How, therefore, could you suppose 
that one of these liberal gentlemen would listen 
to scepticism, on the subject even of St. Athana- 
sius's sweeping anathema." 

And then this : — 

" On one subject I am cool, toleration ; yet 
that coolness alone possesses me that I may with 
more certainty guide the spear to the breast of 
my adversary, with more certainty ensanguine it 
with the heart's blood of Intolerance — hated 
name ! 

" Adieu ! Down with Bigotry ! Down with 
Intolerance ! In this endeavour your most sincere 
friend will join his every power, his every feeble 
resource." 

Nor did Shelley make any secret of his opinions 

63 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

at home. On the contrary he aired them in the 
bosom of his family, sparing only Elizabeth on 
the ground that he did not " wish to awaken her 
intellect too powerfully." He attempted even to 
"enlighten" his father, but with unsatisfactory 
results : — 

" He for a time listened to my arguments ; he 
allowed the impossibility (considered abstractedly) 
of any preternatural interferences by Providence. 
He allowed the utter incredibility of witches, 
ghosts, legendary miracles. But when I came to 
apply the truths on which we had agreed so 
harmoniously, he started at the bare idea of some 
facts generally believed never having existed, 
and silenced me with a bovine argument, in 
effect with these words : ' I believe because I 
do believe.' " 

That is characteristic of Mr. Timothy Shelley, 
of whose theological inadequacy we shall have 
further proofs. Meanwhile, the effect of the 
boy's theological outpourings on his mother's 
mind claims notice : — 

" My mother imagines me to be in the high 
road to Pandemonium, she fancies I want to make 
a deistical coterie of all my little sisters; how 
laughable ! " 

While as for the collective attitude of the 
family : 

"They attack me for my detestable principles; 
64 



FIRST LOVE AND NEW THEOLOGY 

I am reckoned an outcast; yet I defy them and 
laugh at their ineffectual efforts." 

These letters were written in the Christmas 
vacation of 1810-1811. They are important as 
showing us precisely in what frame of mind Shelley 
returned to Oxford and catastrophe. Not the 
least significant fact is that he speaks of his 
principles, not as " atheistical " but as " de- 
istical " ; and this profession of deism is con- 
tained in several passages of the letters to Hogg. 
In one of the letters he goes so far as to speak 
of " God whose mercy is great." In another we 
read this : — 

" The word ' God,' a vague word, has been, 
and will continue to be, the source of numberless 
errors, until it is erased from the nomenclature of 
philosophy. Does it not imply ' the soul of the 
universe, the intelligent and necessarily beneficent 
actuating principle ' ? This it is impossible not 
to believe in ; I may not be able to adduce proofs, 
but I think that the leaf of a tree, the meanest 
insect on which we trample, are, in themselves, 
arguments more conclusive than any which can 
be advanced, that some vast intellect animates 
infinity." 

And then again : — 

" Love, love infinite in extent, eternal in 

duration, yet (allowing your theory in that point) 

perfectible, should be the reward; but can we 

c 65 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

suppose that this reward will arise, spontaneously, 
as a necessary appendage to our nature, or that 
our nature itself could be without cause — a first 
cause — a God ? When do we see effects arise 
without causes ? " 

But, on the other hand : — 

" I swear — and as I break my oaths may 
Infinity, Eternity blast me — here I swear that 
never will I forgive intolerance. . . . You shall 
see — you shall hear — how it has injured me. 
She is no longer mine ! she abhors me as a sceptic, 
as what she was before. Oh, bigotry ! When I 
pardon this last, this severest, of thy persecutions, 
may Heaven (if there be wrath in Heaven) blast 
me. Has vengeance in its armoury of wrath 
punishment more dreadful ? . . . 

" . . . Is suicide wrong ? I slept with a 
loaded pistol and some poison last night, but did 
not die." 

These excerpts, thus arranged, clear up the 
situation. Shelley was not an atheist, any more 
than Vincent Crummies was a Prussian. His 
professions of faith, though rather crudely put, 
hardly strike one as being more advanced than 
those of the Rev. R. J. Campbell. But he had 
been treated as an atheist; and he was in a 
dangerous mood, and ready for mischief. 



66 



CHAPTER VII 

"THE NECESSITY OF ATHEISM "—EXPULSION FROM 
OXFORD 

The facts which must be borne in mind in 
order that the story of The Necessity of Atheism 
may be intelHgible are these : — 

Shelley was only eighteen, but was taking to 
controversy as a duck to water, and saw no 
reason for keeping his religious opinions in a water- 
tight compartment. His New Theology, which, 
in so far as it was coherent, was pretty much the 
New Theology of the City Temple of to-day — a 
theology based upon the doctrine of Divine 
Immanence — had lost him a bride, and had 
consequently caused him to lose his temper. He 
had a fluent pen, and was never so happy as when 
employing it. That to begin with, and further- 
more : — 

Shelley was a rowdy man ; and, partly for that 
reason, and partly because he was a Stinks man 
— one whose rooms were not only furnished, as 
Hogg says, with " an electrical machine, an air- 
pump, a galvanic trough, a solar microscope, and 
large glass jars and receivers," but Avere also 
pervaded with " an unpleasant and penetrating 
effluvium " — was persona ingrata with the dons. 

Of his miscellaneous literary activities it would 
E 2 67 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

be superfluous to say much; but there are two 
points to be noted. He was out-growing penny 
dreadfuls ; and his work was beginning to attract 
attention in University circles. The last of the 
penny dreadfuls was St. Irvyne, or the Rosicrucian, 
advertised as " by a Gentleman of Oxford Univer- 
sity " ; and this romance was not yet out when 
the author wrote to his publisher, Stockdale of 
Pall Mall, declaring his determination to produce 
something more serious and ambitious : — 

" I have in preparation a novel ; it is principally 
constructed to convey metaphysical and political 
opinions by way of conversation ; it shall be sent 
to you as soon as completed, but it shall receive 
more correction than I trouble myself to give to 
wild Romance and Poetry." 

The novel thus announced was Leonora, which 
may or may not have been begun in collaboration 
with Hogg, and might or might not, if completed, 
have turned out to be a romance of New Theology- 
One likes to imagine it as a sketch of a sort of 
earlier Robert Elsmere; but as it was never printed, 
or even finished, one cannot make smy definite 
affirmation. The Avork which interrupted its com- 
position was a volume of poems — Posthumous 
Fragments of Mrs. Margaret Nicholson, Widow 
— which is said to have been begun in a serious 
spirit but transformed into a burlesque at Hogg's 
suggestion and with his help; and this was the 
production which first caused Shelley to be 
talked about. 
68 



EXPULSION FROM OXFORD 

Munday and Slatter, who published the 
brochure, spoke of it, indeed, as " almost still- 
born " ; but Hogg's statement that the copies 
which were not given away " were rapidly sold 
at Oxford at the aristocratical price of half-a- 
crown for half-a-dozen pages " is made more 
probable by a letter written by C. Kirkpatrick 
Sharpe, and printed in Lady C. Bury's 
Diary. 

" Talking of books, we have lately had a 
literary sun shine forth upon us here, before whom 
our former luminaries must hide their diminished 
heads — a Mr. Shelley of University College, who 
lives upon arsenic, aqua-fortis, half-an-hour's 
sleep in the night, and is desperately in love with 
the memory of Margaret Nicholson. . . . The 
author is a great genius, and, if he be not clapped 
up in Bedlam or hanged, will certainly prove one 
of the sweetest swans on the tuneful margin of 
Cher." 

A marvellously exact prediction, though there 
was little to warrant it in the facts before the 
prophet : a proof, too, that Shelley ceased to be 
a nonentity while still a freshman. 

His zeal for literature, however, paled, at 
this period, before his zeal for controversy; 
and that zeal for controversy was found in 
curious conjunction with a passion for practical 
joking, and for " pulling the legs " of pompous 
persons. 

69 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

His favourite device, suggested to him while 
he was still an Eton boy, by Dr. Lind — a man 
of science of the town who had encouraged 
his taste for chemistry — was to write, under an 
assumed name to strangers — the most grave and 
reverend strangers whom he thought likely to 
reply to him — submitting brief abstracts of some 
heterodox argument, and appealing for assistance 
in rebutting it. If the person to whom he 
wrote " took the bait," says Hogg, he would 
" fall upon the unwary disputant and break his 
bones." Once, according to Medwin, he lured 
a bishop into controversy, by pretending to be 
a woman, and handled him as the impertinent 
have delighted to handle the pompous from the 
beginning of the world. On another occasion, 
it is said, his antagonist, discovering how he had 
been " got at " by a schoolboy, wrote to the head- 
master, demanding that he should be flogged for 
his presumption; and Keate, as we know, was a 
head-master who snatched at the smallest excuse 
for the birch. 

It was splendid fun, of course — and likely to 
prove still better fun in a world in which birches 
were not ; and the fun would reach its acme if it 
were possible to "get a rise" out of the Vice- 
Chancellor, the Proctors, the Regius Professor of 
Divinity, and the Heads of Colleges and Halls. 
These dignitaries being clergymen, atheism was 
the obvious card to play. The effect of a pro- 
fession of atheism on clergymen might fairly be 
expected to be that of a red rag on a bull — the more 
70 



EXPULSION FROM OXFORD 

so if the atheistical conclusions were deduced 
from works read in the ordinary course of the 
University curriculum. Shelley, moreover, was 
the readier to attempt to " draw " them on 
those lines because his New Theology had been 
treated as atheism and had, as we have seen, 
lost him a bride. He was in the mood to say 
that he would show people what atheism really 
was. 

How Hogg was induced to bear a hand in the 
campaign one does not know, — most likely for no 
other reason than because he loved a joke, and 
admired his friend's skill as a controversialist. 
At all events he and Shelley did put their heads 
together; with the result that The Necessity of 
Atheism was produced, and advertised in the 
Oxford Herald of February 9, 1811, and that 
copies of it were posted to dons and others, 
" with the compliments of Jeremiah Stukeley." 

Nor was that all. There was the off-chance 
that the dons, scenting a practical joke, might 
ignore the outrage, and Shelley, avid of publicity, 
was determined to compel them to take notice. 
So he came down, with a bundle of his pamphlets 
under his arm, to Messrs. Munday and Slatter's 
shop — the very shop in which a lavish and 
indulgent parent (lavish and indulgent on that 
occasion at all events) had given out that his 
" printing freaks " were to be encouraged. He 
wished those pamphlets, he said, to be offered for 
sale at sixpence each ; he wished them to be well 
displayed on the counter and in the window; in 

71 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

order that the window might be dressed to his 
liking, he proposed to dress it himself. 

He did so with an obliging readiness which 
overwhelmed the amiable bookseller's assistant. 
In a moment of time The Necessity of Atheism 
was displayed in Messrs. Munday and Slatter's 
shop, much as the first number of a new magazine 
with a gaudy cover might be displayed on one 
of the railway bookstalls to-day. 

It remained so displayed for about twenty 
minutes ; and then the Rev. John Walker, Fellow 
of New College — he, apparently, whom Hogg 
describes as " the pert, meddling fellow of a 
college of inferior note,^ a man of an insalubrious 
and inauspicious aspect " — passed the shop, 
looked into the window to see what new publi- 
cations had arrived, read the title of Shelley's 
pamphlet, and, after being surprised and shocked, 
was moved to action. He walked into the shop, 
demanded the proprietors, and gave them peremp- 
tory instructions : — 

"■ Mr. Munday, and Mr. Slatter ! What is the 
meaning of this ? " 

" We beg pardon, sir. We really didn't know. 
We hadn't examined the publication personally. 
But, of course, now that our attention is drawn 
to it " 

" Now that your attention is drawn to it, Mr. 
Munday and Mr. Slatter, you will be good enough 

^ It is only within comparatively recent years that the 
reputation of New College has stood high. 

72 



EXPULSION FROM OXFORD 

to remove all tlic copies of it that lie on your 
counter and are exposed in your window, and 
to take them out into your ))ack kitelien, and 
there burn tliem." 

Such was tlie dialogue; as om* <!an reconstruct 
it from Mr. Slatter's r(;eol lections contained in a 
letter to one Montgomery of Lincoln, whom we 
know as Robert Montgomery, the poet. 

Mr. Walker, of course, had no le^ya! right to 
give those orders. From the strictly legal point 
of view he was commanding a man over whom 
he had no jurisdicvtion to destroy property which 
did not belong to him ; he would never have pre- 
sumed to giv(^ su(rh orders in, say, Mr. Ilatehard's 
shop in Pi<;eadilly. At Oxford, however, his foot 
was on his native heath, and Messrs. Munday 
and Shatter knew it. He might speak to the 
Vice-Chan<;ellor; and the Vice-Chancellor might 
forbid undergraduates to deal at their establish- 
ment. So they were all bows and smiles and 
obsequious anxiety to oblige. 

" By all means, Mr. Walker ! An admirable 
idea, sir ! Just what we were ourselves on the 
point of suggesting. You may rely on us to carry 
out your wishes." 

" You will be good enough to carry them out 
in my presence. I will accompany you to your 
back kitelum for that purpose." 

" That will be very good of you, Mr. Walker. 
It will be a great honour to our back kitchen. 
Will you please walk this way, sir ? " 

78 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

So the holocaust was effected; and Messrs. 
Munday and Slatter begged Shelley to call on 
them, and told him what they had been obliged 
to do. 

" We are really very sorry, Mr. Shelley. We 
really could not help ourselves. Mr. Walker was 
so very firm in the matter ; and even in your own 
interest, you know " 

Et cetera. The scene can still be reconstructed 
from the same source. There was to be no further 
publicity for Shelley through the instrumentality 
of the booksellers; and as no one was likely to 
trouble about the authorship of an anonymous 
brochure which had been reduced to ashes, that 
might have been the end of the matter if Shelley 
had not circulated his pamphlet through the post. 
But then he had so circulated it, and the covering 
" compliments of Jeremiah Stukeley " were very 
obviously in his handwriting; and the recipients 
of the presentation copies, who included several 
bishops, were saying that something really ought 
to be done; and the dons were not only willing 
but anxious, and not only anxious but eager, to 
lay hold of the handle which Shelley had now 
given them. 

Was he not a Stinks Man — a Rowdy Man ? 
Did he not make malodorous chemical experi- 
ments, and dress eccentrically, and wear his 
hair long — and was he not impertinent when 
"ragged " ? Was it likely, then, that the Senior 
Common-room would stand atheism or any other 
74 



EXPULSION FROM OXFORD 

nonsense from such a man as that ? Of course 
it would not. Of course Shelley was sent 
for " with the Dean's compliments " — ^those 
compliments of evil omen — and the rest of the 
story may be best told in the words of the Mr. 
Ridley already quoted, who is a less prejudiced 
witness than Hogg : — 

" It was announced one morning at a break- 
fast party, towards the end of the Lent term " 
(writes Mr. Ridley), " that Percy Bysshe Shelley, 
who had recently become a member of University 
College, was to be called before a meeting of the 
Common-room for being the supposed author of a 
pamphlet called The Necessity of Atheism. This 
anonymous work, consisting of not many pages, 
had been studiously sent to most of the dignitaries 
of the University and to others more or less con- 
nected with Oxford. The meeting took place 
the same day, and it was understood that the 
pamphlet, together with some notes sent with 
it, in which the supposed author's handwriting 
appeared identified with that of P.B.S., was 
placed before him. He was asked if he could or 
would deny the obnoxious production as his. 
No direct reply was given either in the affirmative 
or negative. 

" Shelley having quitted the room, T. J. Hogg 
immediately appeared, voluntarily on his part, 
to state that, if Shelley had anything to do with it, 
he (Hogg) was equally implicated, and desired his 
share of the penalty, whatever was inflicted. It 

75 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

has always been supposed that Hogg wrote the 
preface. 

" Towards the afternoon a large paper bearing 
the College seal, and signed by the Master and 
Dean, was affixed to the hall door, declaring that 
tlie two offenders were publicly expelled from the 
College for contumacy in rej using to answer certain 
qicestions put to them. The aforesaid two had 
made themselves as conspicuous as possible by 
great singularity of dress, and by walking up and 
down the centre of the quadrangle, as if proud of 
their anticipated fate." 

That is all. There are other versions of the 
incident; but this is the one which rings truest. 
Comment is supplied by Robert Montgomery, 
the pious poet already mentioned — a poet more 
pious than poetical in the view of persons qualified 
to judge both departments of endeavour. 

" Strange and unnatural as it may appear," 
Montgomery writes with heavy, not to say hippo- 
potamic, sarcasm, '' there are many in Oxford who 
think that a University, based on the immortal 
truths of the Gospel, ought not to license or en- 
courage blasphemy, however gilded by genius." 

No doubt there are many who would agree 
with that proposition, not in Oxford only but 
elsewhere as well. There may even be some who 
think that Montgomery, rather than Shelley, 
is the sort of scion that Oxford should be proud 
76 



EXPULSION FROM OXFORD 

of. But Montgomery's principle, whether right 
or wrong, is hardly applicable to Shelley's case; 
which was the case, as we have seen, not of a 
convinced blasphemer, but of a practical joker 
who had over-reached himself and suffered 
martyrdom rather than confess that he had been 
joking. 

And that, one concludes, was the view of those 
later dignitaries of the college who permitted the 
erection of a Shelley Memorial within the college 
precincts — albeit in a dark corner of those pre- 
cincts, only to be reached by way of an obscure 
passage which looks as if it led to a coal-hole 
wherein an unwary visitor would run a serious 
risk of being arrested and charged Avith intent to 
commit a felony. 

And so to London to face a father, no longer 
lavish and indulgent, but obstinate and angry. 



77 



CHAPTER VIII 

POEMS ADDRESSED TO HARRIET GROVE— LIFE IN 
LONDON— RETURN TO FIELD PLACE 

Shelley and Hogg took lodgings together at 
15, Poland Street; and Shelley looked up Med win 
and the Groves while waiting for his father's 
arrival. 

Harriet Grove is really out of the story by this 
time — she was to have no permanent influence on 
Shelley's thoughts ; but he had not yet forgotten 
her, — he can hardly be said to have forgotten her 
even when he made up his mind to marry another 
Harriet; and therefore it may be worth while to 
do what earlier biographers could not do, and 
gather up the allusions to his passion for her con- 
tained in the volume of verse entitled Original 
Poems by Victor and Cazire. 

The volume was produced by Shelley in con- 
junction with his sister Elizabeth. Professor 
Dowden spoke of it in 1886 as having "wholly 
disappeared from human ken," though about a 
hundred copies were known to have got into 
circulation before Shelley ordered the rest of the 
stock to be destroyed, and reviews of it had been 
discovered — one of them to the effect that " there 
is no original poetry in this volume; there is 
nothing in it but downright scribble." Twelve 
78 



POEMS ADDRESSED TO HARRIET GROVE 

years afterwards, however, a copy was found by 
Charles Grove's grandson, Mr. V. E. G. Hussey, 
bound up with the third Canto of Childe Harold 
and some others of Byron's poems, and was 
published by Mr. Lane with an Introduction by 
Richard Garnett. 

The poetry on the whole merits the verdict of 
the critic quoted; but the personal references 
may detain us. The names of the persons are, 
indeed, left blank ; but the blanks are easy to 

fill up. The piece headed " To " is obviously 

addressed " To Harriet," and is as obviously from 
Shelley's own pen : — 

Ah ! sweet is the moonbeam that sleeps on yon 
fountain, 
And sweet the mild rush of the soft-sighing 
breeze. 
And sweet is the glimpse of yon dimly seen moun- 
tain, 
^ Neath the verdant arcades of yon shadowy trees. 

But sweeter than all was thy love and affection 
Which scarce seemed to break on the stillness of 
eve. 
Though the time it is passed ! — yet the dear recol- 
lection 
For aye in the heart of thy {Percy) must live. 

And thou, dearest friend, in his bosom for ever 
Must reign unalloyed by the fast-rolling years : 

He loves thee, and, dearest one, never oh ! never 
Canst thou cease to he loved by a heart so sincere. 

79 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

No less obviously is Harriet addressed in the 
following : — 

Come, (Harriet), sweet is the hour. 
Still zephyrs breathe gently around ; 

The anemone'' s night-boding flower 

Has sunk its pale head on the ground. 

^Tis thus the world's keenness hath torn 
So7ne mild heart that expands to its blast ; 

'Tis thus that the wretched forlorn 
Sinks poor and neglected at last. 

The world with its keenness and woe 
Hath no charms or attraction for me ; 

Its unkindness with grief has laid low 
The heart which is faithful to thee. 

The high trees that wave past the moon. 
As I walk in their umbrage with you. 

All declare I must part with you soon. 
All bid you a tender adieu. 

Then (Harriet), dearest, farewell ! 

You and I, love, may ne'er meet again : 
These woods and these nwadows can tell 

How soft and how sweet was the strain. 

The lines, it must be allowed, are not on a much 
higher level of inspiration than those one finds 
put in evidence in actions for breach of promise 
of marriage ; but they sparkle with genius 
when compared with the lines in which Elizabeth 
Shelley draws a picture of her brother as a love- 
sick swain : — 
80 



T^OEMS ADDRESSED TO HARRIET GROVE 

Ht -neither eats, drinks, nor sleeps, for her sake. 
And ■ npes her hard heart some compassion will take, 
A refu^ rl will kill him, so desperate his flame. 
But he fears, for he knows she is not common game. 
Then praises her sense, wit, discernment and grace, — 
He's not one ihafs caught by a sly-looking face. 
Yet thafs too divine — such a black sparkling eye, 
At the bare glance of which near a thousand will 

die. 
Thus runs he on, meaning but one word in ten, 
More than is meant by most such kind of men ; 
For they^re all alike, take them one with another. 
Begging pardon with the exception of my brother. 

Poor stuff, of course, but none the less worth 
quoting as a document. It belongs, it is pretty 
clear, to the early days before the New Theology 
had cast its shadow over the courtship. Eliza- 
beth seems to have been annoyed because her 
brother published her verses without asking her 
leave — which, in view of the quality of the 
verses, is not surprising. That, at all events, is 
the interpretation which it seems most natural 
to put on the following entry in Harriet Grove's 
diary : — 

" Received the poetry by Victor and Cazire. 
C. offended, and with reason. I think they have 
done very wrong in publishing what they have of 
her." 

Presumably the offence taken by C. was the 
reason why the volume was so hurriedly sup- 
s' 81 



I 

THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLHj^ 

* there can be no doubt of the existence of a 
Deity; none whatever.' 

*' Nobody present expressed any doubt. 

" ' You have no doubt on the subject, sir, have 
you ? ' he inquired, addressing himself particularly 
to me. 

" ' None whatever.' 

*' ' If you have, I can prove it to you in a 
moment.' 

" ' I have no doubt.' 

" ' But perhaps you would like to hear my 
argument ? ' 

*' ' Very much.' 

" ' I will read it to you, then.' 

" He felt in several pockets, and at last drew 
out a sheet of letter-paper, and began to read." 

What he read was a passage copied from Paley, 
and was recognized by his listeners as such. They 
were not convinced by it, as he had hoped they 
would have been; but the interview — thanks, 
no doubt, to the excellent port in Miller's cellar — 
was not so stormy as might have been feared. 
Hogg voted the member for Shoreham " jolly 
and hospitable " ; and the member for Shoreham 
congratulated Hogg on being " a nice, moder- 
ate, reasonable, pleasant gentleman." He and 
Timothy Shelley became almost confidential, 
and, as schoolboys say, " warm," in their specu- 
lations as to the causes of Shelley's disconcerting 
profession of faith. "If he had married his 
cousin," Hogg thought, "he would have been 
84 



LIFE IN LONDON 

steadier " ; and he suggested that, as he could 
not marry his cousin, he should be induced to 
marry some one else : — 

" If you were to bring him in contact with 
some young lady, who, you believed, would make 
him a suitable wife, without saying anything about 
marriage, perhaps he would take a fancy to her; 
and if he did not like her, you could try another." 

It may not have been wise advice — Hogg may 
not have been serious in giving it; but, at least, 
it contributed to the harmony of the evening — 
a harmony not perceptibly disturbed even when 
Shelley was overcome by " a demoniacal burst of 
laughter " and " slipped from his seat and fell 
on his back at full length on the floor " ; and the 
scene and the conversation give us an impression 
of Timothy Shelley not altogether unpleasing. 
He was port-logged and inadequate; but he 
meant well. He offered excerpts from Paley, 
but — la plus belle fille du monde ne peut donner 
que ce qiCelle a. 

Evidently he meant to be conciliatory as well 
as severe; but he had the misfortune not to be 
on a level with his task. Intellectually, his 
eighteen-year-old son could dance round him; 
and he had, or thought he had, grievances which 
tempted him to do so. Having been compelled 
to forfeit a bride because of his New Theology, 
he was now called upon, for the same reason, to 
resign a friend. That was too much — a last 
straw — an ultimatum to be treated as a casus 

85 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

belli. Chivalry, Shelley felt, forbade him to 
accept his father's terms. Timothy Shelley, in 
order to compel their acceptance, stopped his 
son's allowance. 

But not for long, and not with results which 
perceptibly embarrassed Shelley. His sisters 
sent him some of their pocket money ; his uncle, 
Captain Pilfold, sent him a present; he borrowed 
what else he wanted from Hogg; and meanwhile 
things were happening. 

For one thing, Timothy Shelley had found that 
Hogg was not such an appalling person as he had 
imagined ; for another, Hogg senior had summoned 
his son to York — which seemed a very long way 
from London in those days — to begin the dry, 
but respectable, study of conveyancing. That 
cleared the air a little; and friends and relatives 
were, at the same time, at work, trying to patch 
up a peace. Among the peacemakers were the 
Groves, Captain Pilfold, and Sir Bysshe Shelley's 
patron, the Duke of Norfolk. Captain Pilfold — 
a breezy mariner, who had fought under Nelson 
in the battles of the Nile and Trafalgar — admired 
Shelley's spirit more than he disliked his theology, 
and invited him to his house. The Duke gave a 
dinner-party at which the pacifying influence of 
port was once more brought to bear; and it is 
not unreasonable to suppose that Mrs. Shelley 
was anxious to see her boy summoned home 
before he got into further mischief. 

Certainly there was some danger. One of 
Shelley's audacious proceedings at this date was 
86 



RETURN TO FIELD PLACE 

to ask Rowland Hill's permission to preach in 
his chapel ; and as one knows pretty well what 
doctrines he was prepared to preach, one feels 
sure that the sensation, if Rowland Hill had 
granted his request, would have been considerably 
greater than that aroused when Mr. Bernard Shaw 
preached in the City Temple. And that was 
only one of the roads by which he was approach- 
ing what his mother would have viewed as 
mischief. It was also at this period that he 
cultivated the acquaintance of Miss Harriet 
Westbrook — a most undesirable young person 
from the county family point of view. 

It cannot be said that he was in love with her ; 
for he had not yet ceased pouring out his soul to 
Hogg on the subject of Harriet Grove : — 

" She is not lost for ever ! How I hope that 
may be true ; but I fear / can never ascertain, I 
can never influence an amelioration, as she does 
not any longer permit a philosopher to correspond 
with her. She talks of duty to her father. And 
this is your amiable religion ! " 

Harriet Westbrook certainly had not the first 
place in Shelley's heart when he wrote that; but 
it by no means followed that she was not a source 
of danger. Tiiere was a danger of which a wise 
mother, knowing how apt are the hearts of the 
young to be caught on the rebound, would have 
been very sensible. Whether Mrs. Shelley had 
yet heard enough about Miss Westbrook to be 
aware of the danger is doubtful ; but she certainly 

87 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

desired an arrangement whicli Avould bring Shelley 
home ; and presently she got her way. 

Shelley was offered £200 a year on condition 
that he would apologize for his New Theology to 
the Master of his college. He rejected the con- 
dition indignantly, and, after an interval, it was 
withdrawn ; so that, presently, we fnid him writing 
to Hogg : — 

" I have come to terms with my father. / call 
them very good ones. I am to possess £200 per 
annum. I shall live very well upon it, even after 
the legal opinion which you inclosed. I am also 
to do as I please with respect to the choice of 
abode. I need not mention what it will be. 

That was written from Field Place on May 15, 
1811 ; and Shelley remained at Field Place until 
July. He does not seem to have been worried 
overmuch about his irreligious opinions. He now 
speaks of his mother as " quite rational," and as 
having confessed that " pray 67' and thanksgiving 
are of no use," and that any good man, whether 
philosopher or Christian, might fairly hope to 
" do very well in whatever future state awaits 
us." Mrs. Shelley's main concern evidently was, 
not to convert her son, but to keiep him out of 
mischief. 

She thought she had done so; but she was 
mistaken, as we shall soon see when we turn back 
to Harriet Westbrook. 



88 



CHAPTER IX 

MISS HITCHENER AND HARRIET WESTBROOK 

In order that our appreciation of the second 
Shelley-Harriet drama may be clear we must 
bear in mind that the dramatis personae were 
respectively the heir to a baronetcy and great 
estates and the daughter of a licensed victualler. 

A man who is born in a stable is, notoriously, 
not a horse; a girl who is born behind a bar 
is not necessarily a barmaid. But she is apt to 
look like a barmaid when inspected, from a 
distance, through the eye-glasses and lorgnettes 
of the heads of county families; and she is also 
apt, even though her father has made a com- 
petence and retired, to think, feel, and proceed 
after the fashion of a barmaid in the conduct of 
the affairs of the heart. 

And one knows what that means. Barmaids 
are, at once, romantic and ambitious, regarding 
romance as a ladder whereby they may climb to 
success in life. They are no more satisfied to 
marry licensed victuallers than the modern chorus 
girl is satisfied to marry a super. If they do 
marry victuallers, it is a pis-aller. They have 
learnt from novelettes that love levels ranks, 
and that " nice " girls, of whatever social station, 
may reasonably expect to marry '' gentlemen " 

89 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

in general and baronets in particular. They 
have also learnt — not so niueh from novelettes 
as from other sources — that Heaven helps those 
who help themselves; and they are consequently 
prone to show themselves of what philosophers 
have called a " coming-on " disposition — which 
disposition their friends and relatives are, on their 
part, prone to encourage. 

That is the situation with which we start in the 
case of Harriet Westbrook. She impresses one 
as being somewhat (though not entirely) like one 
of Mr. Charles Garvice's heroines; resembling 
such a heroine in her beauty, natural charm, 
and romantic character, but differing from such 
a heroine in her greater readiness to help romance 
to a happy issue by weaving a net, witli the help 
of the members of her family, about the heart of 
the prospective baronet on whom her affections 
were fixed. Circumstances favoured her; and 
two circumstances were particularly favourable. 
She was at school with Shelley's sisters at Clap- 
ham; and Shelley was a conscientious equali- 
tarian whose equalitarianism always reached its 
zenith when there was an attractive woman in 
the case. 

Almost all the women who played a part in 
Shelley's life were, as his comity family would 
have said, "" not quite " ; and there were some 
of them of whom his eoimty family would have 
said that they were " not by any means." But 
that never made any difference to him, as one 
discovers from the records of his relations with the 
90 



MISS niTCHENER 

daughter of another Hcensed victualler — Miss 
Elizabeth Ilitchener of Ilurstpicrpoint, whose 
social standing is defined witfi rigid precision in 
a letter written by the Earl of Chichester at a 
time when a Government Department had reason 
to desire information about her : — 

" Miss Ilichener of Hurstpierpoint keeps a 
school there, and is well spoken of : her Father 
keeps a Publiek House in the neigh bourliood : he 
was originally a smuggler, and clianged his name 
from Yorke to Ilichener before he took the Publiek 
House." 

Shelley was in correspondence with Miss Hitche- 
ner at the very time when the Wcstbrooks were 
weaving the toils; and the story of his relations 
with her — such as it is — shall be told in its proper 
place. Here one need only note that Miss Ilitche- 
ner reminded Shelley of the social gulf between 
them, and that Shelley replied with a violent 
expression of scorn for all such artificial dis- 
tinctions : — 

" You remind me thus of a misfortune which I 
could never have obviated, not that the sturdiest 
aristocrat could suppose that a real difference 
subsisted between me, who am sprung from a race 
of rich men, and you whom talents and virtue 
have lift(^d from the obscurity of poverty. If 
there is any difference, surely the balance of real 
distinction would fall on your side. . . . Have I 
not forsworn all this ? Am I not a worshipper of 

91 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

equality ? . . . Where is now Nature distinguish- 
ing degrees ? or rather do you not see that art has 
assumed tliat offiee, even in the gifts of the mind. 
I see the impropriety of dining with you — even 
of cahing upon you. I shall not willingly, how- 
ever, give up the friendship and correspondence of 
one whom, however superior to me, my arrogance 
calls an equal." 

If that was Shelley's attitude towards a charm- 
ing school-mistress who was evidently (at this 
stage) careful of the proprieties and very much 
afraid of what peoi)le would say, it was not to be 
supposed that social barriers would impede his 
intercourse with a charming schoolgirl who saw 
nothing improper or imnatural in his wish to 
overcome them, and whose family, far from refus- 
ing him facilities for such intercourse, absolutely 
showered facilities upon him. And so to the 
relation of the romance ! 

Mr. Westbrook, having retired from his tavern 
to take his ease in his house in Chapel Street, 
Grosvenor Square, and desiring to give his younger 
daughter Harriet a good education, sent her to 
the academy for young ladies kept by Mrs. 
Fenning (presently to be succeeded by Miss 
Ilawke) at Church House, on the north side of 
Clapham Conmion, where is now Nelson Terrace. 
Mary and Hellen Shelley were also at school there 
— ^little girls at a time when Harriet was a big 
girl. Hellen Shelley's impressions, communicated 
to Hogg, will be Harriet's best introduction : — 
92 



MISS HITCHENER 

" I remember her well; a very handsome girl 
with a complexion quite unknown in these days — 
brilliant in pink and white — with hair quite like a 
poet's dream, and Bysshe's peculiar admiration. 
. . . The governesses and teachers used to re- 
mark upon her beauty; and once I heard them 
talking together of a possible Fete Champetre, 
and Harriet Westbrook might enact Venus." 

Shelley sometimes called at the school to see 
his sisters. One of the new letters printed in 
Mr. Roger Ingpcn's collection shows him, while 
still an Eton boy, making an appointment with 
his friend Graham to meet him there. That 
was in the penny dreadful days, and he wrote in 
the penny dreadful style : " At half after twelve 
do you be walking up and down the avenue of 
trees near Clapham Cliurch, and when you see a 
post chaise stop at Mrs. Fenning's door, do you 
advance towards it, and without observing who 
are inside of it speak to them — an eventful and 
terrific mystery hangs over it." Et cetera; Eliza- 
beth adding, to avert misunderstanding : " We 
really expect you to meet us at Clapham in the 
w^ay described by the Fiendmongery 

Wliat happened next — though one does not 
know whether it happened on this, or some later, 
occasion — Med win tells us : — 

" It so happened that, as Shelley was walking 
in the garden of this seminary, Miss Westbrook 
past them. She was a handsome blonde, not 

93 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

equality ? . . . Wliere is now Nature distinguish- 
ing degrees ? or rather do you not see that art has 
assumed that office, even in the gifts of the mind. 
I see the impropriety of dining with you — even 
of caUing upon you. I shall not willingly, how- 
ever, give up the friendship and correspondence of 
one whom, however superior to me, my arrogance 
calls an equal." 

If that was Shelley's attitude towards a cliarm- 
ing school-mistress who was evidently (at this 
stage) careful of the proprieties and very much 
afraid of what people would say, it was not to be 
supposed that social barriers would impede his 
intercourse with a charming schoolgirl who saw 
nothing improper or unnatural in his wish to 
overcome them, and whose family, far from refus- 
ing him facilities for such intercourse, absolutely 
showered facilities upon him. And so to the 
relation of the romance ! 

Mr. Westbrook, having retired from his tavern 
to take his ease in his house in Chapel Street, 
Grosvenor Square, and desiring to give his younger 
daughter Harriet a good education, sent her to 
the academy for young ladies kept by Mrs. 
Fenning (presently to be succeeded by Miss 
Hawke) at Church House, on the north side of 
Clapham Common, where is now Nelson Terrace. 
Mary and Hellen Shelley were also at school there 
— ^little girls at a time when Harriet was a big 
girl. Hellen Shelley's impressions, communicated 
to Hogg, will be Harriet's best introduction : — 
92 



MISS KITCHENER 

*' I remember her well; a very handsome girl 
with a complexion quite unknown in these days — 
brilliant in pink and white — with hair quite like a 
poet's dream, and Bysshe's peculiar admiration. 
. . . The governesses and teachers used to re- 
mark upon her beauty; and once I heard them 
talking together of a possible Fete Champetre, 
and Harriet Westbrook might enact Venus." 

Shelley sometimes called at the school to see 
his sisters. One of the new letters printed in 
Mr. Roger Ingpen's collection shows him, while 
still an Eton boy, making an appointment with 
his friend Graham to meet him there. That 
was in the penny dreadful days, and he wrote in 
the penny dreadful style : " At half after twelve 
do you be walking up and down the avenue of 
trees near Clapham Church, and when you see a 
post chaise stop at Mrs. Fenning's door, do you 
advance towards it, and without observing who 
are inside of it speak to them — an eventful and 
terrific mystery hangs over it." Et cetera; Eliza- 
beth adding, to avert misunderstanding : " We 
really expect you to meet us at Clapham in the 
way described by the Fiendmonger ^ 

Wliat happened next — though one does not 
know whether it happened on this, or some later, 
occasion — Medwin tells us : — 

" It so happened that, as Shelley was walking 
in the garden of this seminary. Miss Westbrook 
past them. She was a handsome blonde, not 

93 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

then sixteen. Shelley was so struck with her 
beauty that, after his habit of writing ... to 
ladies who interested him, he contrived, through 
the intermediation of his sisters, to carry on a 
correspondence with her. The intimacy was not 
long in ripening." 

It had so far ripened by the time when Shelley 
returned from Oxford for the Christmas vacation 
that we find him, on January 11, 1810 — in the 
midst of his trouble over Harriet Grove's fickle- 
ness — instructing his publisher to send Miss West- 
brook a copy of his penny dreadful St. Irvyne. 
That is the first mention of her name in the cor- 
respondence; and it seems that, in the course of 
the same Christmas vacation, as Charles Grove 
told Hogg, he called at Mr. Westbrook's house 
to deliver a present for Harriet on behalf of his 
sister Mary. The presumption is strong — since 
Mary was so young — and since the necessity for 
schoolgirls to exchange presents during their 
Christmas holidays is not obviously urgent — ^that 
Shelley had volunteered to render this service for 
reasons of his own, and that, even in the hour 
of his distress because one Harriet had proved 
untrue, he was drawn to another Harriet by his 
" peculiar admiration " for her splendid head of 
hair. That is the way of the young — and some- 
times of their elders also. 

The correspondence presumably continued 
(though the letters have disappeared) ; but the 
next advances seem to have been made by the 
94 



HARRIET WESTBROOK 

Westbrooks — first by Harriet herself, then by 
Harriet's sister Eliza, and finally by Harriet's 
father, the retired licensed victualler. The time 
was that of Shelley's residence in Poland Street; 
and we then find Harriet calling on him in his 
lodgings as his sister's messenger, bringing him 
their gifts of money. It seems to some naive 
biographers " natural " that they should have 
asked her, and that she should have agreed, to 
play this part. It was " natural " in a sense, no 
doubt, but hardly in the sense which they intend. 
The gifts could easily have been conveyed by 
other means; but romance is dear to the hearts 
of schoolgirls; and Harriet, who may fairly be 
supposed to have been told of Shelley's " peculiar 
admiration " for her hair, may also fairly be sup- 
posed to have jumped at — or perhaps even to 
have contrived — this opportunity of allowing 
him to admire it once again. 

She gave him not only one opportunity of doing 
so, but several ; the opportunities being contrived 
with the assistance of her sister Eliza, a maiden 
lady, thirty years of age — old enough, that is to 
say, to be regarded as a competent chaperon, 
but also young enough to discharge the duties of 
a chaperon in a sympathetic and accommodating 
spirit. As to what happened one has only scraps of 
information ; but tJie scraps are sufficient as clues. 
Eliza, it is clear, brought the wisdom of the serpent 
to support the harmlessness of the dove. She un- 
derstood that the heir to a baronetcy and entailed 
estates (even though temporarily out of favour 

95 



TTIK ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

witli his father) was a " catcli " for a hccnsed 
victualler's (hxii^hter, and she saw, more or less, 
how Shelley's ])assiou for romance <H)uld be shaped 
to a practical end. lie was, after Hogg's depart- 
ure, alone in London ; and Harriet's hair was his 
" pecuHar admiration " ; so if, not Harriet only, 

but her family took })ity ou his loneliness 

That was Eliza's sim])le idea, and she acted on 
it. In Shelley's first letter to Hogg from Poland 
Street we read : — 

" Miss Westbrook has this moment called on 
me with her sister. It certainly was very kind of 
her." 

And, about a week later, after Harriet's return 
to school — 

*■' I . . . walked about Clapham Common with 
them for two hours. The youngest is a most 
amiable girl ; the eldest is really conceited, but 
very condescending. I took the sacrament with 
her on Sunday. You say I talk philosophically 
of her kindness in calling on me. She is very 
charitable and good. I shall always think of it 
with gratitude, because I certainly did not deserve 
it, and slie exposed herself to nuich possible 
odium. . . . 

"... I am going to Miss VVestbrook's to 
dinner. Her lather is out." 

It would be interesting to know what Miss 
Westbrook talked about at that iSte-a-ieie dinner; 
96 



HARRIET WESTBROOK 

jind what she said to her lather afterwards; but 
of tliese matters there is no reeord. Presuma!)ly 
she ])raised Harriet to Shelley, and praised Slielley 
to Mr. West brook. At any rate, our next extract 
shows that matters have advanced a furtlier 
stage. 

*' My poor little friend has be('n ill, her sister 
sent for me the other night. I found her on a 
coueli pale; lier father is civil to me, very 
strangely; the sister is too civil by half. She 
began talking about VAmour. 1 philosophized, 
and the youngest said she had such a headache 
that she could not bear conversation. Her sister 
then went away, and T stayed till half-past twelve. 
Iler^ father had a, large ])aity below, lie invited 
me; 1 refused." 

Whence various things appear. Eliza was 
evidently working hard, with a full knowledge of 
what is likely to happen when " young people " 
are " thrown together." Shelley, as evidently, 
was in strange waters, not quite in love with 
Harriet, though attracted by her, somewhat 
sus})ieioiis of Eliza's motives, and by no means 
desirous, in spite of his democratic principles, of 
hobnobbing with the licensed victualler's friends, 
b'or some reason he seemed to have convinced 
himself that the licensed vi<;tiuiller was a tyrant; 
but the only act of tyianny which he mentions 
was a very minor one ; and he had an opportunity 
of mitigating it : — 

o 97 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

" Yesterday she was better, her father com- 
pelled her to go to Clapham, whither I have 
conducted her, and I am now returned." 

But if Harriet was unhappy at home, she was 
also unhappy at school, as girls are apt to be 
when the restrictions of discipline impede the 
free play of the grand passion; and there was a 
special reason for her unliappiness : — 

" I am now called to Miss Westbrook ; I was 
too hasty in telling my first unfavourable im- 
pression : she is a very clever girl, though rather 
affected. No ! I do not think that she is. I 
have been with her to Clapham. I will tell you 
an anecdote. Harriet Westbrook has returned 
thither, as I mentioned. They will not speak to 
her; her schoolfellows will not even reply to her 
questions ; she is called an abandoned wretch, and 
universally hated, which she remunerates with 
the calmest contempt." 

The inwardness of this seems to be that one 
or more of Shelley's letters to Harriet had fallen 
into the school-mistress's hands, and that Harriet 
was, in consequence, in disgrace, and had been 
held up to the rest of the school as an example of 
everything that a pupil at a select Academy for 
Young Ladies ought not to be. A grand passion 
— that was bad enough ; but a grand passion for 
an avowed atheist — ^tliat was indeed, as we 
moderns say, " the limit." The situation was 
terrible from the governess's point of view, 
98 



HARRIET WESTBROOK 

romantic from Shelley's — and, from Eliza's 
standpoint, developing pretty much as it should 
develop. 

Eliza, one feels, was, in her own way, a woman 
of the world. Shelley's atheism seems to have 
mattered no more to her than if it had been a 
strawberry mark on the left elbow : a trifle which 
the daughter of a licensed victualler must on no 
account allow to stand between her and the chance 
of marrying into a county family. It would 
probably wear off; and, if it did not wear off, no 
matter. Metaphysical speculations were in the 
clouds; but marriage was a practical enterprise 
which any woman could understand. The 
essential thing was to keep on good terms with 
Shelley; and that is what we find Eliza to have 
been doing while Harriet endured persecution on 
his account : — 

" I spend most of my time at Miss Westbrook's. 
I was a great deal too hasty in criticizing her 
character. How often have we to alter the im- 
pressions which first sight, or first anything, 
produces ! I really now consider her as amiable, 
not perhaps in a high degree, but perhaps she is." 

That was written on May 6; and on May 12 
we read : — 

" I am now at Miss Westbrook's. She is 
reading Voltaire's Dictionnaire Philosophiquey 

As if P^liza cared twopence for Voltaire's 

Dictionnaire Philosophique ! She cared, of course, 

G 2 99 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

nothing for it except as a means of humouring 
Shelley ; and we can see that, in that task she was 
getting on moderately, if not supremely, well. 

Probably she also had her work cut out to 
humour her father, whose attitude towards the 
courtship, at this stage, is not very clear. Probably 
he would have been willing enough that Shelley 
should marry Harriet, but did not believe that 
he had any intention of doing so. The youth, we 
can imagine him arguing, who objected to hob- 
nobbing with a licensed victualler's friends, was 
likely to think twice before marrying a licensed 
victualler's daughter — especially as he belonged 
to a class of society in which licensed victuallers' 
daughters are regarded as the natural prey of the 
gallant. There was food for thought there ; and, 
on the whole, it was better that Harriet should 
remain at school until he saw his way more 
clearly. 

That was the stage which matters had reached 
when Shelley made terms with his father and 
returned to Field Place, where his mother doubt- 
less fondly believed him to be safely " out of 
mischief " for the present. On May 13, however, 
we find him writing to Hogg : — 

" Misses Westbrook are now very well. I have 
arranged a correspondence with them, when I 
will impart of the character of the eldest." 

Decidedly there were possibilities in that 
correspondence. 



100 



CHAPTER X 

ELOPEMENT WITH HARRIET WESTBROOK 

The evidence that Shelley was in love with 
Harriet Westbrook at this, or at any subsequent, 
stage of his relations with her, is weak. The 
references to her in his letters are on a very 
different plane of emotion from the bitter cry of 
the outcast suitor of Harriet Grove ; and his 
lamentations over the loss of Harriet Grove 
continue for some time after Harriet Westbrook 
has begun to pay her addresses to him. Indeed, 
this second romance presents itself, at first, as 
a kind of duel between combatants unequally 
armed and aiming at different ends : Shelley 
ready to compass sea and land to make one 
proselyte, while Harriet watches her chance to 
entrap an eligible suitor. 

The inference is not, of course, that Harriet 
Westbrook was hard or unromantic. It is quite 
as romantic to desire a husband as to desire a 
convert; and Harriet was not to know that 
Shelley was more eager for a convert than for a 
wife. How should she even suspect such a thing 
when he expressed " peculiar admiration " for a 
head of hair which was like " a poet's dream " ? If 
she might be his wife, she was quite willing to 
be his convert too. But she was only sixteen ; 

101 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

and she knew that, from the point of view of 
Shelley's family, she was " not quite " ; ... and 
she had the practical Eliza to coach her in the 
arts by which men may be " led on." Manceuv- 
ring was bound to follow, and may fairly be 
assumed to have been part of the programme — - 
of Eliza's programme if not of Harriet's — when 
the correspondence was " arranged." 

That correspondence, unfortunately, has not 
been published; but Shelley's mind can be read 
from his letters to other correspondents. We can 
see from these that his mind was just then far 
more active than his heart. His opinions were 
nominally those advertised in The Necessity of 
Atheism; but he was always ready to modify 
them in a Pantheistic sense ; and his real concern 
was less with religious than with social problems — 
those problems of the relations between men and 
women, rich and poor, high-born and humble, of 
which religion (or at all events religious people) 
professed to offer cut-and-dried solutions. 

Perhaps his own solutions were also cut-and- 
dried ; but at least he cut them and dried them 
himself, ignoring all authority except that of 
logic. All men, he said with the revolutionists, 
were born equal ; and therefore he would acknow- 
ledge no distinctions between man and man 
save those which intellect and virtue — ^the virtue 
which he himself recognized as such — created. 
For the same reason, he was on the side of 
labour as against capital, and of tenants as 
against landlords, and denounced the institution 
102 



ELOPEMENT WITH HARRIET 

of marriage as the unwarrantable attempt of 
society to tyrannize over individuals who knew 
their own business best. And all this, of course, 
with the fiery fervour of nineteen — the age which 
admits neither half-truths nor half-measures, but 
either believes that kings rule by divine right or 
else, and more frequently, demands their heads 
on chargers. 

Against marriage in particular Shelley (who 
was to marry twice), inspired by Godwin (who 
had already married twice), thundered with his 
most passionate eloquence. For instance : — 

" Marriage, Godwin says, is hateful, detestable. 
A kind of ineffable sickening disgust seizes my 
mind when I think of this most despotic, most 
unrequired fetter which prejudice has forged 
to confine its energies. Yes ! This is the fruit 
of superstition, and superstition must perish 
before this can fall." 

That is to Hogg. In a letter to Miss Kitchener, 
the village school-mistress (who may, or may not, 
at that time, have cherished hopes), he writes in 
the same strain : — 

^^ Matrimony, I know, is a word dear to you; 
does it vibrate in unison with the hidden strings 
of rapture — awaken divine anticipation ? Is it 
not the most horrible of all the means which the 
world has had recourse to, to bind the noble to 
itself ? " 

Nor was he content to hold his views as pious 

103 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

opinions, or to confine their applicability to his 
own case. He wished to impose them on his 
own family in general, and on his sister Eliza- 
beth in particular, going even so far as to try to 
arrange a union libre — as the French call it — 
between Elizabeth and Hogg, who had never 
even seen each other. Convinced that, if they 
met, a sacred instinct would impel them to 
fall into each other's arms, he made an amazing 
proposal. He would smuggle Hogg into the 
house, which Timothy Shelley had forbidden him 
to enter, conceal him in his own study, impro- 
vize a bed for him on the floor, and point out 
Elizabeth to him from the window. The sight 
of her, he said, would amply repay the journey; 
and " time and opportunity " might be relied 
upon to do the rest. 

But nothing came of that scheme — ^nothing, 
of course, was in the least likely to come of it. 
Shelley might have been capable of accepting 
such an invitation from Hogg ; but there was not 
the least chance that Hogg would accept such 
an invitation from Shelley. He had too much 
common sense, too much regard for his dignity; 
and he preferred to keep the conduct of his love 
affairs in his own hands. He addressed compli- 
mentary messages to Miss Elizabeth Shelley at 
Field Place ; but he remained at York ; and the 
tone taken in the matter by Miss Shelley herself 
indicates that, if he had come to Field Place, he 
would have come on a vain errand. Miss Shelley 
went so far as to speak scornfully of "you and 
104 



ELOPEMENT WITH HARRIET 

your mad friend ; " with the result that, as Shelley 
writes, not to Hogg, but to Miss Hitchener : — 

" It is in vain that I seek to talk to her. It is 
in vain that I represent, or endeavour to repre- 
sent, the futility of the world's opinion. 

" ' This then is the honourable advice of a 
brother ! ' ' It is the disinterested representation 
of a friend ! ' To which, unanswered, followed 
a sneer, and an affected sportiveness of gaiety 
that admitted of no reply." 

So that Shelley was disappointed with Eliza- 
beth. He had hoped, but a little while before, 
to have her for a disciple as well as a sister; he 
had proceeded delicately to that end, trying to 
avoid shocking her, preaching only as much of 
his revolutionary gospel as he supposed her to be 
ready to receive ; but now, just as he was hoping 
to complete her conversion, he perceived a change 
stealing over her. 

It was only the change natural to her years. 
She was growing up, beginning to wear long 
skirts, put up her hair, and think of coming 
" out " ; and that meant, of course, that, as she 
was no genius, but only an ordinary attractive 
young woman, new interests effaced the old ones. 
Deism was all very well for children ; but dancing 
was more amusing to grown-up people; and 
dancing was not only an end in itself but also 
a means to matrimony. The idea of telling a 
charming young woman, v/hom eligible partners 

105 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

besieged at the county balls, that marriage was 
a destiny to be avoided at all costs ! That doc- 
trine could not be accepted even from a bearded 
philosopher — much less could it be treated with 
respect when put forward by a presumptuous 
brother of nineteen. 

That was Elizabeth Shelley's point of view; 
and Shelley could not understand it. He could 
only think of her as Browning thought of his 
" lost leader " ; and he made haste to write of 
her as he thought : — 

" I will not deceive myself ; she is lost, lost 
to everything; Intolerance has tainted her — 
she talks cant and twaddle. I would not venture 
thus to prophesy without being perfectly con- 
vinced in my own mind of the truth of what I say. 
It 7nay not be irretrievable ; but yes, it is. A 
young female who only once, only for a short 
time, asserted her claims to an unfettered use of 
reason, bred up with bigots, having before her 
eyes examples of the consequences of scepticism, 
or even of philosophy, which she must now see 
to lead directly to the former. A mother, who 
is mild and tolerant, yet narrow-minded; how, 
I ask, is she to be rescued from its influence ? " 

How indeed ? It was apparently as a forlorn 
liope to attempt the rescue that Shelley proposed 
to smuggle Hogg into his father's house; and as 
Hogg did not come, and showed no intention of 
coming, it only remained for Shelley to "give 
106 



ELOPEMENT WITH HARRIET 

up " Elizabeth as hopeless, and satisfy his sore 
need of a confidante elsewhere. 

He found such a confidante in Miss Elizabeth 
Kitchener, whom we have already introduced, 
as a school-mistress, the daughter of a retired 
smuggler, who had changed his name and taken 
a public-house. Shelley made her acquaintance 
— ^none of his biographers seem to know exactly 
how — ^while staying with Captain Pilfold at 
Cuckfield. She can hardly have been on the 
captain's visiting list, though one of his daughters 
was her pupil; but we need not trouble about 
that. She was about eight-and-twenty, — tall, 
dark, with black hair, searching eyes, and an 
illimitable intellectual curiosity — willing, for the 
sake of an argument, to treat the existence of 
God, and even the desirability of " matrimonial- 
ism," as open questions. 

That was what Shelley wanted. He loved 
argument no less than he loved his own opinions ; 
and he loved toleration better than either, being 
satisfied that truth was great and had only to 
be examined in the dry light of reason in order 
to prevail. So he began by lending books to the 
school-mistress, and then plunged into a corre- 
spondence with her — a correspondence which, 
he says, "carries its own recommendation both 
with my feelings and my reason " — a correspond- 
ence, too, in which the school-mistress seems 
to have engaged with an alacrity equal to his 
own. The first topic discussed was Locke's 
doctrine of " innate ideas " ; but other subjects 

107 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

were quickly introduced : Christianity ; the 
immortality of the soul ; the passion of love and 
the institution of marriage. 

It is impossible to know for certain what was 
in Miss Hitchener's mind. That she was in love 
is unlikely — a woman verging upon thirty is 
seldom in love with a boy of nineteen. That 
she was at first a little abashed by her own 
temerity in over-stepping social barriers is clear, 
— a school-mistress, albeit the daughter of a 
publican, is less temerarious in such matters 
than a barmaid. Living encompassed by the 
barriers, she is accustomed to pick her way deli- 
cately among them, like a cat avoiding puddles, 
with an intuitive perception of the things her 
neighbours will say if she does not. Unques- 
tionably it was Miss Kitchener who pointed 
out to Shelley — not Shelley who pointed out to 
her — that there would be " impropriety " in 
their dining together tHe-a-tete in a London 
hotel. 

Still, we know from Miss Hitchener's subse- 
quent conduct that propriety was not absolutely 
a fetish to her ; and Shelley was a very charming 
boy ; and his letters were of constantly increasing 
ardour. He soon began to address his corre- 
spondent as '' Dear Friend " instead of " Dear 
Madam " ; he soon afterwards assured her that she 
was the sister of his soul. His soul, in truth, had 
many sisters, and was always ready for a new one ; 
but Miss Hitchener was not to know that. What 
she did know — for it was obvious — was that it 
108 



ELOPEMENT WITH HARRIET 

was a great thing to be the sister of the soul of the 
heir to a baronetcy and great estates ; and if she 
beUeved that the Platonic communion of souls 
was only a stage in the journey of the pilgrim of 
love towards a goal beyond, and out of sight of, 
Platonism, she only shared a common opinion 
for which there is some warrant in the accumu- 
lated experience of the race. 

On the whole, therefore, it seems probable that 
Miss Hitchener cherished hopes. On the whole, 
too, in view of the advantage which a woman of 
her age has over a boy of Shelley's years, one 
suspects that those hopes would have been realized 
if she had had the field to herself, or perhaps even 
if she had known that there was a rival in the 
field. But that was the difficulty, real though 
unperceived. Shelley was allowing himself to 
be converted from his " anti-matrimonial " doc- 
trine on the ground of " the sacrifice made by the 
woman so disproportioned to any which the man 
can give; " but Miss Hitchener was not the only 
woman who was ready to take advantage of his 
conversion. While corresponding with her, he 
had also been corresponding with the Misses 
Westbrook; and the Misses Westbrook, though 
less qualified than Miss Hitchener to discuss the 
subtleties of ethics and metaphysics, had greater 
skill in the weaving of toils, and better oppor- 
tunities for weaving them. They could make use 
of a father who had retired from his public-house 
to live on his private means; whereas Miss 
Kitchener's father, who kept a public-house in 

109 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

her own immediate neighbourhood, was no help, 
but a hindrance. 

So, at the very time of the correspondence with 
Miss Kitchener, we find the Misses Westbrook 
continually cropping up in Shelley's letters to 
Hogg :— 

" Pray, which of the Miss Westbrooks do you 
like ? They are both very amiable. I do not 
know which is favoured with your preference." 

" Miss Westbrook, the elder, I have heard from 
to-day; she improves upon acquaintance. . . . 
The younger is in prison ; ^ there is something in 
her more noble, yet not so cultivated as the elder 
— a larger diamond, yet not so highly polished. 
Her indifference to, her contempt of, surrounding 
prejudice are certainly fine." 

" I cannot write except now and then to you — 
sometimes to Miss Westbrooks." 

But the most significant reference is this : — 

" I shall be with you in three weeks ; possibly 
less. Take lodgings for me at York; if possible 
at Mrs. Doughty 's. ... I shall leave Field Place 
in a fortnight. Old Westbrook has invited me 
to accompany him and his daughters to a house 
they have at Aberystwyth, in Wales. I shall stay 
about a week with him in town ; then I shall come 
to see you and get lodgings." 

1 That is to say, at school. 
110 



ELOPEMENT WITH HARRIET 

This, when one comes to look at it closely, is 
like bringing the queen into play in a game of 
chess against an opponent who is playing without 
a queen; and one suspects that old Westbrook 
should not be spoken of as moving in the matter, 
but as being moved. Within his limitations, he 
was rather an estimable man. It would be the 
height of injustice to denounce him as a brutal 
father, as Shelley seemed inclined to do, merely 
because he insisted that his daughter should go 
to school when she desired to stay at home — schools 
would be but thinly attended if fathers were 
not firm in such matters. If Mr. Westbrook had 
really been brutal, he would not have allowed 
himself to be talked over into sending this invita- 
tion, which was obviously sent in his daughter's 
interest, and not in his. 

Personally, he cannot have had the faintest 
desire for Shelley's society. On the contrary, he 
must have resented alike Shelley's presumption 
in lecturing him on his duty towards his daughter, 
and Shelley's reluctance to drink a friendly glass 
with his convivial friends in the parlour. Such 
slights and such effrontery rankle in the bosoms 
of the best of men. But Harriet was in love, 
and Eliza had Harriet's interests at heart. Just 
as Eliza had considerately left Shelley and Harriet 
alone together in the house in Chapel Street, so 
now she would contrive to send them for walks 
together on the beautiful Welsh hills. The 
sending of the invitation, in short, was a further 
movement in the weaving of the toils, though it 

111 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

is hard to say Avhether old Westbrook was a 
conscious party to the weaving of them. 

The invitation, at any rate, found Shelley only 
moderately keen, and left him comparatively 
cold. Instead of accepting it, he paid a visit to 
his cousins, the Groves, in the same neighbour- 
hood. That may, of course, have been partly 
from fear of further trouble with his father, to 
whom (as to his mother) the Westbrooks would 
certainly have appeared "not quite"; . . . but 
even the prospect of going to see the Westbrooks 
from the Groves' house does not seem to have 
quickened his pulse to any perceptible degree. 
His desire, as the last letter quoted proves, was 
not to see Harriet, but to see Hogg ; and he also 
had some idea of meeting Miss Hitchener in 
town, for it was precisely at this time that the 
question of the " propriety " of a tete-a-tete dinner 
with Miss Hitchener was raised. 

That question, as we know, was answered in 
the negative. Miss Hitchener was presently to 
modify her attitude towards propriety; but she 
was a strict stickler for it then. It is clear, 
however, that Shelley was more interested in her 
than in Harriet Westbrook; and it is further to 
be remarked that, whereas there was no one to 
question him as to his feelings and intentions 
towards Miss Hitchener, he was quite explicit, 
in reply to Hogg's chaff, as to his feelings and 
intentions towards Harriet. 

" Your jokes on Harriet Westbrook amuse me : 
112 



ELOPEMENT WITH HARRIET 

it is a common error for people to fancy each other 
in their own situation, but if I know anything 
about love, I am not in love. I have heard from 
the Westbrooks, both of whom I highly esteem." 

That was written, apparently at the end of 
July, from the Groves' place at Cwm Elan, 
Rhayader, Radnorshire, where Shelley was evi- 
dently bored. " All," he writes to Hogg, " is 
gloomy and desolate " ; and he further protests 
that he is living with people " who, strange to 
say, never think.^'' Letters from Harriet and 
Eliza partially relieved this boredom; but there 
was no perceptible progress towards the con- 
clusion which Harriet and Eliza desired. It 
looked as if Shelley might have been content to 
go on for ever, telling the Misses Westbrook 
what he thought of the novels which they were 
kind enough to send him, but never, as the 
practical Eliza would have put it, "coming to 
the point." 

But then occurred the coup, which brought him 
to the point. It bursts upon us like a bomb in 
the midst of an array of letters mainly devoted 
to moral and metaphysical philosophy : — 

" I shall certainly come to York, but Harriet 
Westbrook will decide whether now or in three 
weeks. Her father has persecuted her in a most 
horrible way, by endeavouring to compel her to 
go to school. She asked my advice : resistance 
was the answer, at the same time that I essayed 
H 113 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

to mollify Mr. W in vain ! And in con- 
sequence of my advice she has thrown herself 
upon my protection. 

" I set off to London on Monday ! How 
flattering a distinction ! — I am thinking of ten 
million things at once. 

" Wliat have I said ? I declare quite ludicrous. 
I advised her to resist. She wrote to say that 
resistance was useless, but that she would fly 
with me, and threw herself upon my protection." 

There we have it; and there is no reason 
whatever for supposing that Mr. Westbrook 
played a more subtle part in the proceedings 
than appears upon the surface. He was not a 
subtle, but only an obstinate, man, bent solely 
upon the maintenance of his authority as a father ; 
but he had daughters who were at once subtle 
and romantic : one daughter who had all an 
enthusiastic schoolgirl's romantic ideas about 
grand passions ; and another daughter who knew 
how to adjust means to ends. 

We must not be too hard on Harriet. She 
was only sixteen, and was the daughter of a 
licensed victualler; she could only know of life 
what life had taught her; life, as a rule, has 
taught but little to girls of her age and con- 
dition, and has taught that little wrong. No 
doubt she was as much in love as a girl of 
sixteen can be; no doubt she had magnified 
the significance of Shelley's attentions ; no doubt 
she looked upon marriage, like other girls of 
sixteen, as the end, and not the beginning, of 
114 



ELOPEMENT WITH HARRIET 

life's drama. No doubt, too, she argued that, 
as she had endured persecution from her school- 
fellows for Shelley's sake, Shelley would desire 
nothing better than to come to the rescue in 
the fearless fashion of the knights of old; and 
no doubt, to conclude, there was the underlying 
confidence that the heir to a baronetcy and great 
estates could not be " kept out of his rights " for 
ever. 

That, we may take it, was Harriet's point of 
view : a point sharpened, in some respects, by 
Eliza's worldly wisdom. She was in love; she 
thought it would be much nicer to get married 
than to go back to school; she believed in 
chivalry, and she appealed to it, and did not 
appeal in vain. The appeal strained chivalry, 
but did not break it. Shelley married Harriet 
from chivalry, and not from love. The fact, 
indeed, is denied by Cordy Jeaffreson ; but it 
stands out with transparent clearness in the letter 
in which Shelley announced his marriage to Miss 
Hitchener : — 

" I arrived in London. I was shocked at 
observing the alteration of her looks. Little 
did I divine its cause. She had become violently 
attached to me, and feared that I should not 
return her attachment. Prejudice made the 
confession painful. It was impossible to avoid 
being much affected; I promised to unite my 
fate to hers. I stayed in London several days, 
during which she recovered her spirits. I had 
promised, at her bidding, to come again to 

H 2 116 



THK ROMANTIC LIFE OF SITKLLKY 

London. Tlicy rndoavoural to conifxM Iut to 
return to a s('l\ool wIkmt ninlicc anti pride 
enibittt'rc'd cvrry hour. She wrote to inc. 1 
came to London. 1 proposed marriage, for the 
reasons wliieli I liave given you, and she eomphed. 
Blame if thou wilt, dearest friend, for still, thou 
art denrest to me; yet pity even tliis error if 
thou blaiuest me. 11" Harriet be not, at sixteen, 
nil you nre at a more advaneed age, assist me to 
mould a really noble soul into all that ean make 
its nobleness useful and lovely." 

There, onee again, we may elaim to have 
it. No one ean re:id Hint letter and believe 
thai Sh( lley, left to himself, with no toils woven 
around him, would ever have married Harriet 
NVeslbrook, liCl'l lo himself, he might or might 
not have mnrried INliss Ilitehener — whieh might 
or might not luive been worse; but Harriet 
Westbrook he would not have married. To the 
eontrivanee ol* that marriage the weav^ing of toils 
was necessary ; and t he story of it is pretty much 
the story of tlie s[)ider and the lly. 

The spider was quite a niee spider, as spiders 
go — an aflectioTiate and well-meaning spider, 
bent, not upon dt vouring the lly, but upon living 
happily with it ever afterwards. Hut it was a 
spider nevertheless; and it not merely invited, 
but manouvred, the lly into its parlour — not 
in the lly's interest, but in its own. 



11(J 



CllAITKI? XI 

MAIUUA(;i<:-THIi IIONKYMOON Al' lODFNIWJIU^Il — LIFK IN 

i,()Ik;in(;s at vokk 

Brtdk and bridegroom lind thirty-live years 
botwcHiii tliem — nineteen for Sfielley and sixU^en 
lor Ilnrriel. Shelley, that is to sny, was of the 
a^(5 ol' a nio(l(M'n nnderj^naduate in his lirsl. year, 
and Harriet a year, or perhaps a eouple of years, 
too youn^ to leave school. If they were elevercr, 
they eerlainly were nol wiser thnn the ^renenility 
ol' hoys and ^irls of Uieir a^e; and if I hey were 
fuort^ roinanlie than other (children, I heir con- 
ceptions of roniancrc dilTiMcul widely. 

Ilarri(^t was roinanfiir after the manner of 
a romantic harmnid lu^lped to hr so by l^iii/a,, 
who, bein|»' lifteen years her senior, was liiteen 
years nearer to the bar : eherisliin^ a j^rand 
passion for an en^a.^in^ youtli, bnt also fully 
])ersna(led that a /^raiid passion for the heir to a 
l)aron( tey and j^reat <'sta,tes (albeit temporarily 
ke])t out of his rij»;hts) has s])ecia,l elements of 
jrnmdeur. On Shelley's side (he passion for 
ronian(;e was, rather, the kni^ht-errant's ])assion 
for chivalrous adventure : the passion for re- 
drc^ssin^ human wroiij^ and sueeourin/^ beauty in 
distress. 

Succouring, but not marrying; for Godwin's 

117 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

writings had taught him, as we have already 
seen, that marriage was " detestable." He had not 
yet made Godwin's personal acquaintance ; but 
Godwin's Political Justice was nevertheless his 
gospel. He accepted its teachings, consenting 
only to such concessions as Godwin himself had 
made. But those concessions were important. 

The imion between a man and a woman, 
Shelley argued, should last as long as their 
affection lasted, and no longer. It was awful 
to think that the contraiy doctrine was taught 
in the name of religion. But religious prejudices 
were strong; and the religious (and not the 
religious only) made things uncommonly uncom- 
fortable for women who defied them. Conse- 
quently it was not fair for a man to press a woman 
to defy them ; consequently a man might consent 
to marry for a woman's sake, though he theoreti- 
cally disapproved of marriage. Godwin had done 
so ; and Shelley would follow his example, feeling 
that chivalry compelled. 

He did so, and got into quite as much trouble 
by following the call of chivalry as he could 
possibly have incurred by flaunting an irregular 
connection in the face of religious relatives. For 
his relatives, after all, were only moderately 
religious; and there was a point with them, as 
there is with most people, at which the principles 
of religion became subsidiary to the considera- 
tions of family pride. The idea of an irregular 
connection on the part of one of their daughters 
would, of course, have startled them into 
118 



MARRIAGE 

violent religious invective ; but they would much 
rather that their son formed an irregular connec- 
tion with a barmaid (or any woman whom they 
regarded as such) than that he married her. 

Timothy Shelley, as we know, not only held 
that view, but gloried in it, telling his son 
he would cheerfully support his illegitimate 
children, but would never tolerate a marriage 
with a social inferior; and though his language 
may have been less explicit than Medwin, who 
reports it, gives us to understand, his point of 
view — which was also doubtless that of his 
wife — was known. It followed that, if Shelley 
w^as to marry Harriet, the marriage must be con- 
trived and carried out in secrecy. He borrowed 
£25, therefore, from Medwin's father, without 
telling him for what purpose he wanted it, 
quartered himself on the (Proves in Lincoln's 
Inn Fields, and took Charles Grove, aged seven- 
teen, into his confidence. A wedding breakfast 
— we may so call it although it preceded the 
wedding — was arranged at a tavern ; and young 
Grove saw the fugitives off by the night coach 
to Edinburgh, where marriages could be con- 
cluded with more speed and simplicity than in 
London. As the coach was passing through 
York, Shelley scrawled the following note to 
Hogg :— 

" My Dearest Friend, 

" Direct to the Edinburgh Post-Office — 
my own name. I passed to-night with the mail. 

119 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

Harriet is with me. We are in a slight pecuniary 
distress. We shall have seventy-five pounds on 
Sunday, until when can you send £10 ? Divide 
it in two. 

*' Yours, 
" Percy Shelley." 

Hogg, entering into the spirit of the enterprise, 
set out in pursuit of his friend. Wliat happened 
before his arrival is described in Peacock's ^ 
Memoirs of Shelley : — 

" Their journey had absorbed their stock of 
money. They took a lodging, and Shelley imme- 
diately told the landlord who they were, what 
they had come for, and the exhaustion of their 
resources, and asked him if he would take them 
in, and advance them money to get married and 
to carry them till they could get a remittance. 
This the man agreed to do, on condition that 
Shelley would treat him and his friends to a 
supper in honour of the occasion." 

Necessity compelling, Shelley agreed to this; 
and Harriet does not seem to have raised any 
objection. As the daughter of a licensed 
victualler, she may even have been glad to 

^ Thomas Love Peacock, the novelist, afterwards of the 
East India Company's service. Shelley made his acquaint- 
ance in the course of one of his visits to Wales, and the 
friendship became intimate. He and Mary disliked each 
other, and some of his statements are, for that reason, open 
to suspicion. 

120 



THE HONEYMOON AT EDINBURGH 

welcome another licensed victualler as a wedding 
guest, feeling that his presence would ensure 
geniality. But there are licensed victuallers and 
licensed victuallers ; and this man seems to have 
been of the baser sort, disposed to provide rather 
more geniality than was bargained for : — 

" In the evening Shelley and his bride were 
alone together, when the man tapped at their 
door. Shelley opened it, and the landlord said 
to him — ' It is customary here at weddings for 
the guests to come up, in the middle of the night, 
and wash the bride with whisky.' ' I imme- 
diately,' said Shelley, ' caught up my brace of 
pistols, and pointing tliem both at him, said to 
him — I have had enough of your impertinence; 
if you give me any more of it I will blow your 
brains out; on which he ran or rather tumbled 
downstairs, and I bolted the doors.' " 

That is the story which brings into relief 
the wildness and the youthfulness of this 
matrimonial escapade. Shelley and Harriet set 
out together like adventurous Babes in the 
Wood ; and here was a remarkable adventure 
to start with. Hardly less characteristic of 
their tender years was their passionate anxiety 
that their friends should be the sympathetic 
spectators of their pastimes. Harriet desired 
the sympathetic presence of Eliza. Shelley was 
eager to welcome, with extended arms, not only 
Hogg, but Miss Hitchener. 

121 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

His letter to Miss Hitchener on the subject is, 
indeed, an amazing document. He evidently 
felt that explanations and apologies were due to 
her, and he offered them. He apologized, how- 
ever, not for having preferred another woman's 
charms to hers, but for having " undergone the 
ceremony of marriage." She would wonder, he 
feared, how his " conscience could consent to it " ; 
for he had lately told her that his wish was " to 
experiment upon morality." Reflection had de- 
cided him, however, that it was idle " to attempt 
by singular examples to renovate the face of 
society " ; but that was no reason why Miss 
Hitchener should not come and stay with him : — 

" Nothing would be transgressed by your even 
living with us. Could you not pay me a visit ? 
My dear friend Hogg, that noble being, is with 
me, and will be always, but my wife will abstract 
from our intercourse the shadow of impropriety. 
. . . My happiness is not so great that it becomes 
a friend to be sparing in that society which con- 
stitutes its only charm." 

There we have an early exposition of the 
programme which is characteristic of Shelley's 
scheme of life and is sometimes presented as his 
doctrine of " universal love." It is a doctrine 
on which we shall constantly find him acting — 
successfully up to a point — but not beyond that 
point. He loved many women, and many women 
loved him; but the women who loved him did 
122 



THE HONEYMOON AT EDINBURGH 

not always love each other. On the contrary, 
they were capable of jealousy, and he himself was 
also capable of that passion (though, having 
but little cause for it, he took it mildly), as we 
shall see before we have gone much further. 

But we need not anticipate. Miss Hitchener 
did not receive her invitation to live with the 
Shelleys until at least six weeks after the wedding 
day, and it had to be renewed a good many times 
before she accepted it. The only visitor who 
actually burst in upon the honeymoon was Hogg, 
who had not been invited, but whose coming 
was nevertheless regarded as a glorious addition 
to the happiness of the party, and to whom we 
owe our only picture of those extraordinary but 
radiant weeks. 

Timothy Shelley was storming, but Shelley did 
not mind — he had heard his father storm before. 
John Westbrook had begun to storm, but had 
been partially appeased by the sight of Harriet's 
" marriage lines " — Eliza might be relied upon 
to see to it that the retired publican ultimately 
forgave his daughter for eloping with the heir 
to a baronetcy and great estates. In the mean- 
time, though Shelley's allowance had, once more, 
been stopped, that open-handed mariner. Captain 
Pilfold of Cuckfield, had sent him some money 
to go on with ; and, as long as there was money 
to go on with, Shelley did not allow anxiety to 
prey on him, but felt that, as all was right for 
the moment, all would come right in the end. 

He wrote innumerable letters; he saw the 

128 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

sights ; he studied ; he eneonmijed Harriet to 
study. Not tlie least distiuguisliing of his 
characteristics was his desire to see women 
study. VM\enever he loved a woman — ^whether 
he loved her much or little — he always wished 
to teach her Latin and Greek, to say nothing 
of mental and moral philosoj^hy and the natural 
sciences. The necessity of, as it were, saying 
her lessons to her husband every morning, 
may, in the end, have become somewhat of a 
trial to Harriet: but the trouble was not yet 
acute. She was not, for the moment, introduced 
to any subject more painful than French, but 
spent her time in writing out, in a beautiful 
Italian hand, a translation of IMadame Cottin's 
Claire iVAlhc — a tearful, sentimental novel of the 
sort that she enjoyed. She also, in the evenings, 
read aloud to Shelley and Hogg — sometimes from 
novels, and sometin\es from graver works. 

This latter fact has sometimes been cited as a 
proof that she was a yoimg woman of great 
cultivation, and a most suitable helpmate for 
Shelley; but we must not be too sure of that. 
Harriet read well, as Hoj^g testilies, and no doubt 
she knew that she read well. No doubt she had 
been praised for her reading — she may even have 
taken prizes for it — at school ; and no doubt she 
liked to make a show of her accomplishment — 
just as girls who know that they sing Avell 
insist upon being asked to sing. The accom- 
plishment, however, is not a very popular one, 
except in the society of the blind ; and Hogg tells 
124 



LIFE IN LODGINGS AT YORK 

us that, though he himself was too polite to show 
that he was bored, Shelley sometimes was not ; — 

" The more drowsy Bysshie would sometimes 
drop off; his innocent slumbers gave serious 
offence, and his neglect was fiercely resented ; he 
was stigmatized as an inattentive wretch." 

And again : — 

" Harriet read aloud, in the chaise, almost 
incessantly, Holeroft's novels. The rigid, Spar- 
tan, iron tone of that stern author was not 
encouraging. Bysshe sometimes sighed deeply. 

" * Is it necessary to read all that, Harriet 
dear,' he inquired pathetically. 

" ' Yes ! absolutely.' 

" ' Can you not skip some part ? ' 

" ' No ! it is impossible.' " 

That in the midst of the honeymoon, and on 
the way back from it. It must have been very 
trying; but we need not make too much of it. 
Nor need we dwell upon Hogg's other Edinburgh 
stories — the story, for instance, of the rebuke 
which a citizen of Edinburgh administered to 
Shelley for laughing aloud in the street on the 
Sabbath. That story is an antique one, of which 
there are many variants; and stranger things 
than those which it relates were presently to 
happen to Shelley and his party. 

The three of them posted back together to 
York. Shelley announced his intention of 

125 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

living at York " for ever," for the sake of 
Hogg's society, which he beheved to be as 
agreeable to Harriet as to himself. Apparently 
the idea was that Harriet and he and Hogg 
should " for ever " share the same lodgings; and 
they did, at any rate, begin by sharing a sitting- 
room in the same lodging-house. It was further 
proposed, as we have seen, that Miss Hitchener 
should join the community; and Eliza was also 
to be invited, whether on her merits or as a 
concession to Harriet; and there was to be a 
perennial feast of reason and an interminable 
flow of argument concerning the rights of man, 
the existence of God, and the immortality of the 
soul. 

It was an amazing dream. None but boys and 
girls in their teens could have dreamt it; and 
most boys and girls in their teens would already 
have been too old to dream it. Moreover, even 
for these exceptional boys and girls it was easier 
to dream the dream than to bring the realities 
into accord with it. The hesitations of Miss 
Hitchener created one difficulty ; the personaUty 
of Eliza another; the lack of funds a third. The 
last-named difficulty was the one with which it 
was most instantly urgent to cope; and Shelley 
had hardly settled down in his rooms at 
20, Coney Street, York, than he declared that 
he must set forth alone to Cuckfield to wrestle 
with it. 

He was to pick up Eliza in town, on his return, 
and bring her to York. Possibly he also hoped 
126 



LIFE IN LODGINGS AT YORK 

to fetch Miss Hitchener from Hurstpierpoint ; for 
he had reached the point of offering to divide his 
fortune with her, as well as with his sisters and 
Hogg, when he inherited it, and was protesting 
against the vagueness of her promise to visit 
him " at some remote period," saying : " When 
is this remote period ? When will it arrive ? 
The term is indefinite, and friendship cannot be 
satisfied with this." But his main object was 
to see his father's solicitor, and ask for money; 
and he thought there would be no harm in leaving 
Hogg and Harriet alone together in his apart- 
ments while he engaged upon the quest. 

Perhaps there would have been no harm if all 
the persons concerned had been philosophers 
and nothing but philosophers; perhaps, indeed, 
there actually was no harm. But, whether there 
was harm or not, there was trouble— such trouble 
as philosophers should always, if possible, avoid. 

While Miss Hitchener was hesitating, Miss 
Eliza Westbrook was hurrying. Whether Harriet 
asked her to hurry, or whether she hurried on her 
own responsibility, one does not know. At all 
events she did not wait for Shelley to escort her 
to York, but made the journey alone, and so 
burst in upon the apartment which Harriet and 
Hogg were sharing. She did not like Hogg, and 
Hogg did not like her. Wliere much is dubious 
that one fact stands out clearly ; and it is as well 
to state it before proceeding to pose the question ; 
Is it or is it not true that Hogg had been making 
love to Harriet during Shelley's absence ? 

127 



CHAPTER XII 

HOGG, HARRIET AND ELIZA WESTBROOK— HOW 
MISCHIEF WAS MADE 

Let us review the admitted facts concerning 
Hogg's intercourse with Harriet, and consider 
what probabilities they favour. 

He was only nineteen, and she was only sixteen. 
He was a young man of high spirits and vivacity, 
and she was a remarkably pretty girl. He was a 
gentleman by birth as well as education, and she, 
though not exactly a barmaid, was more like a 
barmaid than a lady. 

That was Timothy Shelley's view of her, and 
it was also Hogg's — no one can read Hogg's 
narrative and retain any doubt upon the point. 
The whole tone of his references to her is a tone 
which a man does not adopt in writing of women 
whom he regards as his social equals. It may 
have been an improper tone for him to take; 
but he took it; and the fact that he took it is a 
piece of evidence to be noted. He took it, so 
far as one can judge, without the least intention 
of being offensive, but simply because obvious 
facts were too strong for him to do anything else. 
He liked Harriet; but he allowed himself (and 
must, indeed, be supposed to have been allowed) 
an intimacy of manner and address which would 
128 



HARRIET AND ELIZA WESTBROOK 

not have been permissible, on the strength of so 
brief an acquaintance, with the sort of person 
whom he was accustomed to meet in the circles 
in which a rising young conveyancer normally 
moves in a cathedral city. It comes out, inci- 
dentally and as if it were a matter of course, that 
he addressed her, not as Mrs. Shelley, but as 
Harriet — and not merely as Harriet but as " dear 
Harriet." 

Being on those terms with her, he was alone 
with her in lodgings, shared a sitting-room with 
her, and sat with her every evening from tea-time 
until bed-time. Conversation had to be made ; 
and the difficulties which a young man of educa- 
tion finds in making conversation with a young 
woman, " genre barmaid," are by no means in- 
considerable. The stock of commonplaces is 
quickly exhausted, and there is no other common 
ground. Or, rather, there is no other common 
ground except that, if the young woman be 
attractive, of gallantry. Hogg, spending the 
long evenings alone with Harriet, had practically 
only three courses open to him. He might put 
a book into her hands and ask her to read aloud ; 
he might sit in embarrassed silence, boring her 
and himself ; — or he might pay her compliments. 

He tried the first course, but tired of it — let 
those who can lay their hands upon their hearts 
and avow that they would not have tired of it in 
his place. The second course was not in keeping 
with what we know of his character. That he 
fell back upon the third course, and expressed in 
I 129 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

somewhat exaggerated language his admiration 
of Harriet's tyes and other charming features is, 
in view of all the circumstances, rather likely. 
To do so would probably have been to follow the 
line of least resistance ; for a girl of sixteen, genre 
barmaid, does not usually feel that she is receiving 
more than her due when a young man whom she 
permits to address her by her Christian name, 
informs her that he admires her eyes. Most 
men, it seems safe to assume, would rather spend 
an evening in paying compliments to a girl of 
sixteen, if she were beautiful and amiable, than 
in hearing her read extracts from the historical 
works of Dr. Robertson. Nor need any trouble 
be caused by the compliments unless the girl 
were exceptionally silly — or unless a mischief- 
maker intervened. 

As it happened, however, Harriet was a silly 
girl, and Eliza was a mischief-making woman — a 
clever woman, too, and one obviously skilled in 
the art of making mountains out of molehills 
when it suited her purpose to do so. She fell 
upon the curious menage, as has already been 
stated, in Shelley's absence. It certainly was a 
curious menage; and Eliza, with all her clever- 
ness, was not a woman to take any but a con- 
ventional view of it. It was not what she had 
expected — not what she had been accustomed to 
— not what friends whose good opinion she 
valued would approve of ; etc., etc. She had not 
encouraged her sister to elope with the heir to a 
baronetcy and great estates for the purpose of 
130 



HARRIET AND ELIZA WESTBROOK 

seeing her compromised — one feels sure that she 
must have used the word " compromised " — 
by the articled pupil of a conveyancer. Friction 
between her and Hogg was therefore inevitable; 
and Hogg's description of her shows that the 
memory of the friction still rankled when he 
wrote : — 

" I had ample leisure to contemplate the addi- 
tion to our domestic circle. She was older than 
I had expected, and she looked much older than 
she was. The lovely face was seamed with the 
small-pox, and of a dead white, as faces so much 
marked and scarred commonly are; as white, 
indeed, as a mass of boiled rice, but of a dingy 
hue, like rice boiled in dirty water. The eyes 
were dark, but dull, and without meaning; the 
hair was black and glossy, but coarse ; and there 
was the admired crop — a long crop, much like 
the tail of a horse — a switch tail. The fine 
figure was meagre, prim, and constrained. The 
beauty, the grace, and the elegance existed, no 
doubt, in their utmost perfection, but only in the 
imagination of her partial young sister." 

That, more or less — for one must allow for 
prejudice — ^was what Eliza looked like. She was 
fifteen years older than Harriet, and therefore 
fifteen years nearer to the bar — " a barmaid by 
origin, or at least a daughter of the house," is 
the way Hogg puts it. She was also about 
twelve years older than Hogg and Shelley : old 
I 2 131 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

enough, that is to say, to tell the latter how she 
expected her sister to be treated, and to snub 
the former as an impudent boy of no particular 
accoimt. She had, Hogg says, " tended, guided, 
and ruled Harriet from her earliest infancy; " 
she had " put her up to everything that was to 
be said or done; " and she had now arrived to 
'* hoist her flag at the masthead, to take the 
entire command, and for ever to regulate and 
direct the whole course of her married life." 
And then, in the twinkling of an eye, we find 
Hogg and Shelley embroiled. 

Eliza, we are told, had found out — ^Harriet, it 
is stated, had confessed to her — ^that Hogg had 
attempted to " seduce " Harriet during Shelley's 
absence. Shelley, we further read, taxed Hogg 
with the crime ; and Hogg admitted it. Hogg 
threatened to blow his brains out unless Harriet 
forgave him. Hogg suggested a duel; and 
Shelley replied that nothing would induce him 
to try to take the life of one who had been his 
friend. Hogg, of course, ignores the story in 
his Life ; and he could certainly urge, with great 
plausibility, that, if there had been anything in 
it, Shelley would not have sought to renew his 
friendship with him while he and Harriet were 
still living together. Still, it is in Shelley's o^vn 
letters to Miss Hitchener that we read of Hogg's 
alleged " confession " ; so that evidently there 
was something in the story; and the question 
is : How much ? 

Probably very little ; almost certainly nothing 
132 



HARRIET AND ELIZA WESTBROOK 

which would ever have come to light, or, if it had 
come to light, would have caused any serious 
trouble, had it not been for the officious inter- 
ference of Eliza, with her turn for making 
mountains out of molehills. 

The worst that one is obliged to assume about 
Hogg is that, in order to make conversation with 
Harri(;t, and to prevent her from eternally boring 
him by reading Robertson's historical works 
aloud, he had, as has already been suggested, 
paid her such exaggerated compliments as men 
pay to pretty barmaids. It is not in the least 
necessary to assume that Harriet resented those 
compliments, or that she would, if left to herself, 
have tliought tliat there was any harm in them. 
It is only necessary to assume that she repeated 
the compliments to Eliza — the rest explains 
itself. 

Eliza did not like Hogg ; and she was the sort 
of woman who gossips with landladies. The land- 
ladies in this case did not like Hogg, who describes 
them as " dingy milliners " and admits that he 
was indiscreet enough to chaff them ; and they 
would have been very unlike the general run of 
landladies if they were unwilling to gossip with 
Eliza. In the course of these colloquies between 
women who did not like him, Hogg's reputation 
would inevitably suffer. Rumour would soon 
take tangible shape; and Harriet's report of the 
compliments which she had received would be 
held to afford confirmation of the rumours. One 
can almost see the process at work, the mischief 

133 



THE ROMAXTTC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

browing, and the coinplimoiits assuming a new 
and sinister signiileanee when n\anipnh\ted by 
Ehza's Ihient and plausible tongue. 

^^ My dear ehild ! He aetually said that to 
you? He aetually said that to the wife of the 
heir to a baronetey and great estates ? And you 
didn't stop him ? You didn't understand ? You 
don't know that men only say that sort of thing 

to women whom they ? And you haven't 

told your husband ? You didn't think he'd 
mind ? Not mind ! INIy dear silly, iimoeent 
Harriet ! You must tell him at ouee. Ov better 
still — leave it to me, and I'll tell him for you." 

That is how we nmst suppose Eliza ti^ have 
talked. Talk of that sort addressed by a woman 
of thirty to a girl of sixteen eould hardly fail to 
produee an effeet; and one can easily imagine 
the further speeches which followed when Eliza 
sot hold of Shellev : — 

" A nice man, this ^Ir. Hc>gg ! A pretty sort 
of friend ! You wc>uldu't call him your friend if 
you knew as much about him as I do. >Vhen the 
cat's away, you know — Ah ! well, I don't mind 
telling you. In fact I think you ought to be told. 
I wouldn't tell you if I didn't know it for a fact. 
If you don't believe me, you can ask Harriet. 
We'll ask her together. Harriet, my dear, didn't 
you just tell me that Mr. Hogg ? " 

And so forth ; a woman of thirty — a clever 
woman, who knew lumian nature, and also knew 
a certain corner of the world — distilling poison 
into the ear of a boy of nineteen, devoid of the 
134 



HOW MISCHIEF WAS MADE 

worldly wisdom wfiif'li cxpcruncA', giv(;s. The 
poison w.'is bonrui to work. Tint hoy's mind, 
(IniK^cd flown from the rc/^ions of abstract 
speculation to th<; unfamiliar lcv(;l of concrete 
cjilumny, w;i,s bound to be perplexed. TFe misfit 
have doubted Eli/a's unsuy>[)orted wonJ ; but 
how conid he douf)t Harriet ? How susf)ect that 
what Hn,rriet said was what Eli/a fiad contrived 
that she should say ? W})at could he do, in 
short, except run to Uo^fff, rep(;;i.tinj^ the cfiargcs 
and indi^n.'intly demanding (;x[)lanations ? 

His Jcttcrs show that that was what he did; 
and it is not diflicult to picture Hogg's embarrass- 
ment if w(t imagine him to Fiav(; had it on his 
consci(;n(;e that his manner with Harriet had been 
a shad(; too fre(; and easy. He could not very 
well say, in so nmny words, that it had seemed 
natural to adopt that sort of manner with that 
sort of girl that he had only treated Harriet 
as she schemed to expect to b(; treated. Nor 
could he, on the other hand, if he had so treated 
her, say bluntly that she was a spiteful little 
liar. All that he could do was to try to steer 
an embarrassed middle courses protesting some- 
what in this style, in the midst of impatient 
interruptions : — 

** Shelley! Shelley I My dear Shelley I 
What an ama/ing ac;eusation ! Who on earth 
has been putting such extraordinary ideas into 
your head ? What's that you say ? Harriet 
told you herself ? Jlarriet complained to you 
that I chucked fier under the chin ? Well I 

135 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

never — Do I deny it ? you ask. I've no recollec- 
tion of doing anything of the kind ; but of course 
I don't like to contradict a lady; and you may 
be quite sure that, if I did, it was done with the 
very best intentions. I'd no idea she minded. 
She didn't seem to at the time. I'm quite willing 
to beg her pardon if she did. I can't say more 
than that, can I ? What ! You're not satisfied ? 
You want to pick a quarrel with me about it ? 
Well, then, confound it, Shelley, if you insist upon 
quarrelling ' ' 

Et cetera. The speeches are, of course, 
imaginary speeches, suggested in lieu of actual 
speeches of which there is no record. The game 
of cross purposes which they illustrate explains 
the subsequent course of events far better than 
the theory that Hogg was really treacherous and 
that Shelley had really acquired convincing 
proofs of his treachery. It explains alike the 
hesitations and fluctuations in Shelley's immediate 
wrath, and the completeness of the pardon which 
he extended to his friend, after the waning of 
Eliza's influence, but before the separation from 
Harriet. 

In the end Shelley evidently realized that he, 
the idealistic philosopher, had been fooled by 
the low cunning of the mischief-making daughter 
of a licensed victualler. Even at the moment 
he did not permit himself to be fooled quite 
without resistance. The struggle proceeding in 
his mind is apparent not only in the letters in 
which, with a naivete partly his own and partly 
136 



HOW MISCHIEF WAS MADE 

the characteristic of his tender years, he confided 
his troubles to Miss Hitchener, but also in the 
letters to Hogg himself. In one of the letters 
to Miss Hitchener he writes : "I told him that I 
pardoned him freely." In another : "I leave 
him to his fate." That is fairly inconsistent, 
but the inconsistency in the letters to Hogg is 
even more remarkable. 

Shelley continued to correspond with Hogg 
for some time after his departure from York. 
The tone of the earlier letters is such that some 
biographers have, most naturally, jumped to the 
conclusion that the misunderstanding had not 
yet arisen when they were written. The con- 
fidences to Miss Hitchener show them to be 
mistaken. The trouble did, in fact, begin v/hile 
Shelley was still at York. But we nevertheless 
find him, after the beginning of the trouble, 
instructing Hogg to open any letters which may 
come for him, and even inviting Hogg to visit 
him. For instance : — 

" We all greatly regret that ' your own 
interests, your own real interests ' should compel 
you to remain at present at York. But pray write 
often." 

And also : — 

" Will you come ? Will you share my fortunes, 
enter into my schemes, love me as I love you, be 
inseparable as once I fondly hoped we were ? . . . 
Cannot you follow us ? — ^why not ? " 

137 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

It is not until some weeks later that we come 
to the letter which temporarily terminated the 
intercourse of the two friends. Hogg prints the 
letter as " a fragment of a novel," suppressing 
Harriet's name ; but there can be no doubt that 
it is really a fragment of this curious correspond- 
ence. These are the essential passages : — 

" You talk of female excellence, female per- 
fection. Man is, in your declamation, a being 
infinitely inferior, whose proudest efforts at 
virtue are but mockeries of his impotence. 
(Harriet) is the personification of all this contrast 
to man, the impassionateness of the most ardent 
passion that ever burned in human breast could 
never have dictated a compliment (I will not 
say a piece of flattery) more excessive. She 
perceived it (for she has shown me your letter), 
and remarked with such indignation on the 
repetition of that continued flattery, which you 
had made your theme ever since she knew you. 
I wish you would investigate the sources of this 
passion, my dear friend; you would find it 
derived its principal source from sensation. 

" Let your ' too, too great susceptibility of 
beauty,' your own very sincere expression in 
your letter to (Harriet) suffice to convince you 
of the true state of your feelings. This caused 
your error primarily : nor can I wonder. I do 
not condemn, I pity; nor do I pity with con- 
tempt, but with sympathy, real sympathy. I 
hope I have shown you that I do not regard you 
138 



HOW MISCHIEF WAS MADE 

as a smooth-tongued traitor; could I choose such 
for a friend ; could I still love him with affection 
unabated, perhaps increased ? Reason, plain 
reason, would tell you this could not be. How 
far gone must you have been in sophistry, self- 
deception, to think sensation in this, in any 
instance, laudable. 

" I am not happy. I tell you so. My last 
letter was written in the acuteness of feeling; 
but do you wish that I should be happy ? Re- 
assure yourself, and then be assured that not a 
wish of my heart will remain ungratified, as 
respects you. I have but one other wish beside ; 
to that, at present, I will not allude more. 
(Harriet) will write to you to-morrow. May I 
require that, as one proof of self-conquest, you 
will throw the letter into the fire, suppressing all 
thoughts of adoration, which I strongly suspect 
to arrive from mere sensation, sentiment. But the 
letter will arrive first : it will be pressed to the lips, 
folded to the heart, imagination will dwell upon 
the hand that wrote it ; how easy the transition 
to the wildest reveries of ungratified desire ! 

" Oh ! how the sophistry of the passions has 
changed you ! The sport of a woman's whim, 
the plaything of her inconsistencies, the bauble 
with which she is angry, the footstool of her 
exaltation ! Assert yourself, be what you were. 
Love, adore ; it will exalt your nature, bid you, 
a man, be a God ! Combine it, if you will, with 
sensation, perhaps they are inseparable ; be it 
so. But do not love one who cannot return it, 

139 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

who, if she could, ought to stifle her desire to do 
so. Love is not a whirlwind that it is un- 
vanquishable ! " 

That is the ehmax on whieh the curtain of this 
act of the drama falls. The circumstances which 
led up to it are left to conjecture ; but the diffi- 
culties in the way of conjecture are hardly 
insuperable. Hogg's letters, and the interpre- 
tation put upon them in Shelley's family circle, 
are the missing links in the chain which imagina- 
tion may plausibly supply. 

Hogg, we must suppose, was too wise a man 
to accept Shelley's invitation to visit him, but 
not wise enough to give the right reasons for 
his refusal, and was an indiscreet and unpractised 
letter-writer, as boys of his age, entangled in 
emotional situations of which they have no 
experience, are apt to be. He felt, no doubt, 
that it would be brutally bad manners for him 
to represent himself as insensible to Harriet's 
charms — it may even be that he was not insen- 
sible to them. Consequently he let himself go 
too far in the opposite direction, struck the 
attitude of a love- sick swain with a blighted 
heart, and once more paid exaggerated compli- 
ments — mainly, if not solely, because he sup- 
posed it to be the proper thing to do, and 
perhaps with the result of working himself up 
into a partial belief in his own sincerity. 

It was a dangerous thing to do in any case — 
doubly dangerous with such a woman as Eliza 
140 



HOW MISCHIEF WAS MADE 

in the house. If EHza got hold of those letters, 
she could make what she chose out of them — 
and one knows what she would choose to make. 
They proved — that is to say, they seemed to 
prove — that she was right. They proved it 
easily to Harriet — to whom the idea that a 
personable young man was pining for love of her 
need not be supposed to have been repugnant. 
They proved it, eventually, and by dint of 
reiteration, to Shelley himself. " I told you so," 
Eliza was now in a position to say. " His 
behaviour is, and has been all along, that of the 
wicked baronet in the novelettes. You really 
ought to write and tell him so." 

And Shelley, who was as young as Hogg, and 
nearly as young as Harriet, and had an irresist- 
ible passion for putting his most sacred feelings 
on note-paper, sat down and wrote. He may not 
have written exactly the letter which Eliza 
would have liked to see him write ; but he wrote 
the letter which has been quoted, and it served 
as well. Indeed, it served better ; for it left the 
door open for the resumption of friendship at 
some later date, when Eliza no longer spoke as 
one having authority, and Hogg and Shelley and 
Harriet were all old enough to see how silly 
they had been at her cunning instigation. 

But we shall come to that in due course, and 
shall have to follow Shelley upon many pilgrim- 
ages before we come to it. 



141 



CHAPTER XIII 

AT KESWICK— SHELLEY'S RECONCILIATION WITH HIS 
FATHER— HIS RELATIONS WITH SOUTHEY— HIS COR- 
RESPONDENCE WITH WILLIAM GODWIN 

At the end of October, or the beginning of 
November, Shelley and his party moved from 
York to Keswick ; hfs purpose being, apparently, 
not SO much to see the Lakes as to see the Duke 
of Norfolk, who had a place at Greystoke, in that 
neighbourhood. As the Duke had made the 
peace before between the mutinous son and the 
angry father, there was at least a sporting chance 
that he might render the same service a second 
time ; and the need for help was urgent. Shelley 
had come to the end of his pocket money. He 
had also come to the end of Eliza's pocket money ; 
and the Duke's response to his appeal found him 
in the midst of a desperate correspondence with 
the elder Medwin about ways and means. 

" We are now so poor,"" he wrote to Medwin, 
underlining the words, " a^ to he actually in 
danger of every day being deprived of the necessaries 
of life.'' Would it not be possible for him, he 
asked, in spite of his minority, to borrow on 
the security of his expectations ? If so, would 
Medwin at once remit a small sum for immediate 
expenses ? And the letter proceeds : — 
142 



AT KESWICK 

" Mr. Westbrook has sent me a small sum,, with 
an intimation that we are to expect no more; this 
suffices for the immediate discharge of a few debts, 
and it is nearly with our very last guinea that we 
visit the Duke of N. at Greystock, to-morrow. 
We return to Keswick on Wednesday. I have 
very few hopes from this visit." 

The visit nevertheless marked the turning of 
the tide. The Duke had already, three weeks 
before, opened negotiations with Timothy 
Shelley, as is set forth in an extract from his 
private Diary first printed in Denis Florence 
MacCarthy's Early Life of Shelley : — 

'' 1811, Nov. 7.— Wrote to T. Shelley that I 
would come to Field Place on the 10th, to confer 
with him on the unhappy difference with his 
son, from whom I have a letter before me. 

'' To Mr. B. Shelley in answer that I should 
be glad to interfere, but fear with little hope of 
success; fearing that his father, and not he 
alone, will see his late conduct in a different 
point of view from what he sees it." 

Dukes, however, are not without influence in 
determining the point of view from which such 
things shall be seen by country gentlemen. 
Their arguments count for much, and their 
examples count for more. When Shelley, 
Harriet, and Eliza were invited to Greystoke, 
to join a house party which included Lady 

143 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

Musgrave, Mrs. Howard of Corby, and James 
Brougham, the brother of the future Lord Chan- 
cellor, Field Place was bound to be impressed, 
and Mr. Westbrook to be dazzled. To think 
that he had once kept a tavern, and that his 
daughters now adorned baronial halls ! That 
was indeed a happy ending to what had seemed 
a rather doubtful experiment. He must show 
himself no niggard, but must do " the handsome 
thing," so as to show himself worthy of the 
unexpected honour. 

He did it, and so made it difficult for Timothy 
Shelley to do otherwise. It was not agreeable 
for Timothy Shelley to think that his son had, 
as he put it, " set off for Scotland with a young 
female; " but it hardly suited him to see his 
son dependent upon the charity of the young 
female's father. He might yield with a good 
grace, or with a bad grace; but he must yield. 
Probably, too, he argued that a young female 
who was thought good enough for a Greystoke 
house party could not be such a terrible young 
female after all; and probably that was what 
the Duke of Norfolk intended him to think when 
he invited the young female to join the house 
party. 

What the Duke and Duchess really thought 
of Harriet and Eliza one has no means of knowing. 
It is not to be supposed that they surveyed them 
otherwise than from Olympian heights, or judged 
them by very exigent social standards; but, 
whatever the test was, they seem to have passed 
144 



SHELLEY AND HIS FATHER 

it, — most likely by dint of being careful not to 
talk too much. One can imagine Harriet's 
youth, beauty, and shy timidity disarming criti- 
cism, and the Duchess working herself up into 
a state of patronizing enthusiasm over the 
discovery that she did not drop her h's. The 
upshot of the visit was, at any rate, that Shelley, 
at the Duke's instance, wrote his father a letter 
— two letters, in fact — of dignified apology; and 
that his father, albeit somewhat grudgingly, 
renewed his allowance of £200 a year. Mr. 
Westbrook made his daughter an equal allowance ; 
so that, for the time being, all was well. 

Nor were any unpleasant conditions attached 
to the allowances; for Shelley expressly refused 
to submit to any : — 

" I hope " (he wrote) " you will not consider 
what I am about to say an insulting want of 
respect or contempt; but I think it my duty to 
say that, however great advantages might result 
from such concessions, I can make no promise of 
concealing my opinions in political or religious 
matters. I should consider myself culpable to 
excite any expectation in your mind which I 
should be unable to fulfil." 

And in the second letter : — 

" My principles remain the same as those which 

caused my expulsion from Oxford. When 

questions which regard the subject are agitated 

K 145 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

in society I explain my opinions with coolness 
and moderation. You will not, I hope, object 
to my train of thinking. I could disguise it, but 
this would be falsehood and hypocrisy." 

That is important because the time of Shelley's 
stay at Keswick was the time at which he really 
began to " find himself," not indeed as a poet — 
for his poetry was very poor stuff as yet — but as 
a speculative thinker and a social reformer; 
and one may properly insert here a picture of him 
as he appeared to Southey, who was then living 
at' Greta Hall : — 

" Here is a man at Keswick " (Southey wrote 
to Grosvenor C. Bedford) " who acts upon me 
as my own ghost would do. He is just what I 
was in 1794. His name is Shelley, son to the 
member for Shoreham ... It has surprised 
him a good deal to meet, for the first time in his 
life, with a man who perfectly understands him, 
and does him full justice. I tell him that all the 
difference between us is that he is nineteen, and 
I am thirty-seven; and I daresay it will not be 
very long before I shall succeed in convincing 
him that he may be a true philosopher and do a 
great deal of good with £6000 a year, the thought 
of which troubles him a great deal more at present 
than ever the want of sixpence (for I have known 
such a want) did me. God help us ! The world 
wants mending, though he did not set about it in 
exactly the right way." 
146 



HIS RELATIONS WITH SOUTHEY 

Which shows that Southey, though he observed 
the surface of things, could not see beneath the 
surface. He was equally mistaken in expecting 
that Shelley would ever develop into a man like 
him, and in supposing that he had ever been a 
boy like Shelley. 

Shelley, as an undergraduate, had been 
abstemious, whereas Southey had been addicted 
to negus. Southey had been orderly as an 
undergraduate, avoiding Walter Savage Landor 
as a " mad Jacobin," even in the days of his 
Pantisocratic dreams; whereas Shelley had been 
wild, a ringleader in mischief, and one who set 
dons at defiance. It would have been supposed, 
if they had been college contemporaries, that 
Southey was the more serious thinker of the two ; 
but there was not only more vivacity in Shelley's 
revolt against conventional ideas and doings — 
there was also more intensity, more unselfishness, 
and more staying-power. Southey, when he 
soared towards the empyrean, was, in truth, only 
a captive balloon, secured by cords of common 
sense, and sure to be drawn back to earth by 
them after a brief excursion. Shelley's flight 
suggests, rather, the audacious self-dependence 
of the aeroplane. 

When one looks at him in his Oxford days, 
indeed, it is a little difficult to disentangle his 
" message " from his desire to shock and startle 
serious and self-satisfied persons — people, as he 
put it to Hogg, " who never think." He was a 
born preacher as surely as his Oxford contempo- 
K2 147 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

rary Thomas Arnold, albeit born to preach a very 
different doctrine ; he talked quite as much about 
Virtue, though he did not always mean by Virtue 
exactly what other people meant ; but he differed 
from Thomas Arnold in his passion for preaching 
the sort of sermon which would cause the members 
of his congregation to jump out of their boots. 
That is how The Necessity of Atheism came to be 
written by one who was not exactly an atheist; 
and that is why we have to get Shelley away from 
Oxford before we can begin to take him seriously. 
At Keswick, where there were no serious self- 
satisfied persons to shock (though there was 
Southey to argue with), one may do so. 

The articles of the faith flash out in the letters 
to Miss Hitchener, in the midst of lamentations 
over Hogg's excess of gallantry and appeals to 
his correspondent to come and. live with him as 
the sister of his soul ought to do. The creed 
varies a little from letter to letter in matters of 
definition and detail; but the writer remains 
consistent in essentials. He never seems quite 
sure whether he is atheist, deist, or pantheist; 
but he loves Virtue and hates Christianity because 
he believes Christianity to be opposed to Virtue. 
In particular he objects to the Christian doctrine 
of rewards and punishments, maintaining that, 
unless Virtue be disinterested, it is not virtuous. 
He also believes in the perfectibility of the human 
race, the rights of man, and the principles of the 
French Revolution. 

A cloudy doctrine, no doubt ; but Shelley took 
148 



HIS RELATIONS WITH SOUTHEY 

no unfair advantage of its vagueness. On the 
contrary he made it definite to his detriment, when 
he was offered £2000 a year on condition that he 
would allow certain properties to be included in 
the entailed estate. " With what face," he then 
exclaimed, " can they make to me a proposal 
so insultingly hateful ! Dare one of them propose 
such a condition to my face — ^to the face of any 
virtuous man — and not sink into nothing at his 
disdain ? " The suggestion of such a bargain, he 
added, would " serve to put in its genuine light 
the grandeur of aristocratical distinctions and 
to show that contemptible vanity will gratify its 
unnatural passion at the expense of every just, 
humane, and philanthropic consideration." 

That was the temper of the enthusiasm which 
Southey thought to damp by the time-honoured 
device of saying that he had felt it himself 
when he was young and foolish, but was now 
old enough to know better. He might as well 
have tried to extinguish the Fire of London 
with a garden hose. The most that he could do 
was to make Shelley lose his patience and his 
temper; and that he quickly did. He invited 
Shelley to tea, and offered muffins and good 
advice; but though Shelley accepted muffin 
after muffin until there were no muffins left on the 
plate, he refused the good advice as emphatically 
as a teetotaller refuses whisky. Southey, he con- 
cluded, was not a matured sage but a " lost 
leader"; and he let him see that he so thought 
of him: — 

149 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

" Southey has changed. I shall see him soon 
and I shall reproach him for his tergiversation. 
He to whom Bigotry, Tyranny, Law was hateful, 
has become the votary of these idols in a form the 
most disgusting." 

He suggested, moreover, that Southey has 
apostatized for fear of poverty : — 

" Wordsworth (a quondam associate of Southey) 
yet retains the integrity of his independence ; 
but his poverty is such that he is frequently 
obliged to beg for a shirt to his back." ^ 

The opinion was momentarily revised when 
Southey was discovered to be " very kind," and 
manifested his kindness by persuading Shelley's 
landlord to reduce his rent. Then points of 
philosophical agreement were found. " Southey 
is no believer in original sin : he thinks that which 
appears to be a taint of our nature is in effect the 
result of unnatural political institutions : there 
we agree." Moreover, Southey is admitted to 
be " disinterested so far as respects his family." 
But Southey's domestic virtues (which all the 
world allows) are soon overshadowed, in Shelley's 
eyes, by his comfortable Conservatism. He is 
presently irritated by Southey's habit of laying 
down the law. He finds it hard to be polite to 
him; he writes about him in language which is 
very far from polite : — 

1 This statement rests, of course, on no authority except 
Shelley's imagination. 

150 



HIS RELATIONS WITH SOUTHEY 

" Southey, the poet, whose principles were pure 
and elevated once, is now the paid champion of 
every abuse and absurdity. I have had much 
conversation with him. He says, ' You will 
think as I do when you are as old.' I do not 
feel the least disposition to be Mr. S.'s proselyte." 

And then again : 

" Southey 's conversation has lost its charm ; 
except it be the charm of horror at so hateful a 
prostitution of talents." 

The personal relations, indeed, though strained, 
were not yet strained to breaking-point. Shelley 
did not openly quarrel with the Tory whose 
influence had brought about the reduction of 
a Radical's rent, and who had lent bed and 
table linen to an ill-provided Radical house- 
hold. The two men were to correspond cour- 
teously before they came to correspond acri- 
moniously. But Shelley, as he had said, would 
never be Southey's proselyte ; and it was while 
he was arguing with Southey that he formally 
seated himself at the feet of William Godwin. 

To what an extent Godwin's Political Justice 
had influenced him we have already seen. He 
had apparently read it at Eton, and he had cer- 
tainly read it at Oxford. It had long been a fifth 
gospel to him, if that be a proper expression in 
the case of a man by whom the four other gospels 
were rejected. He had supposed — ^that is to say, 

151 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

he had assumed without inquiring — that the 
author, Hke the other evangehsts, was dead; 
but he now learnt that he was ahve, and only 
fifty-six years of age. No sooner had he realized 
that than he sat down, in his usual impetuous 
style, and wrote to him, begging for the honour 
of his acquaintance, and so began relations which 
were to have momentous consequences. For 
William Godwin had a daughter, and a step- 
daughter, and an adopted daughter, — all of 
whom will presently figure in this narrative. 

Presently, but not immediately. For the 
moment it suffices to introduce William Godwin 
himself. 

Godwin had been a Nonconformist Minister, 
but had outgrown Nonconformity and become 
first a Unitarian, and then an atheist, a re- 
publican, and an advocate of free love. He 
earned his living, partly as a man of letters, and 
partly as a bookseller and publisher. On the 
whole he was the most effective of the English 
representatives of the French revolutionary creed, 
being the sort of man at whose feet disciples 
naturally take their places. The Government 
had its eye on him. There exists, at the Record 
Office, a State Paper — " Domestic, Geo. III., 
1813. January to March. No. 217." — in which 
he is charged with trying to instil poisonous 
principles into the minds of the young by means 
of insidious school primers. Nothing came of 
the charge — apparently because the Secretary 
152 



HIS CORRESPONDENCE WITH GODWIN 

of State to whom the memorandum was sub- ^ 
mitted could not be bothered to examine the 
primers; but their publisher's formal profession 
of faith was set out in his Inquiry Concerning 
Political Justice and its Influence on General 
Virtue and Happiness, and also in Caleb Williams 
and other novels ; and he had a considerable 
following among the clever young men of the 
day. Being a needy teacher, he frequently 
borrowed money from his disciples; and it is 
hardly to be doubted that, in his later years, 
one of his objects in enlarging the circle of his 
disciples was to extend his possible sources of 
income. 

Shelley, however, knew nothing of that as yet. 
Godwin, for him, was the one great man who could 
give him illumination. He confided in Godwin 
as a woman confides in her confessor, — em- 
broidering the facts a little, as some confessors 
accuse some women of doing. When Godwin 
responded encouragingly to his advances, he was 
as pleased with himself as a Sunday-school scholar 
who has won a good conduct prize, and began at 
once to build castles in the air. He would take 
a mansion in Wales, and Godwin should visit him 
there. Miss Hitchener, and the pupils into whose 
minds Miss Hitchener was instilling the principles 
of true virtue, should also join the party. They 
and he and Eliza and Harriet would ramble on 
the hills together by day, and discuss the rights 
of man and the existence of God by night. 
Their discussions would be fruitful of enlighten- 

153 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

ment, not only to themselves but to the world ; 
and, in the meantime, Shelley would do some- 
thing to prove that he was Godwin's worthy pupil, 
whether Godwin approved of his proceedings or 
not. He would go to Ireland and — 

But what Shelley really meant to do in Ireland 
is a thing which his announcement of his inten- 
tions does not adequately explain. " We go 
principally," he wrote to Miss Hitchener, " to 
forward as much as we can the Catholic Emanci- 
pation; " and if the idea of the cause of Catholic 
Emancipation being forwarded by Shelley, at 
the age of nineteen, is ludicrous, the idea of its 
being forwarded by Harriet and Eliza is more 
comic still. Nor do the contemplated means lift 
the remarkable scheme on to a more serious 
plane. All that Shelley proposed, apparently, 
was to issue an address to the Irish People, 
consisting of "the benevolent and tolerant de- 
ductions of philosophy reduced into the simplest 
language." Later, he conceived that a Debating 
Society and a Philanthropical Association might 
be helpful; but the essential notes of the pro- 
gramme are, after all, its vagueness and its 
earnestness. To Godwin, for instance, Shelley 
writes : — 

" I shall devote myself with unremitting zeal, 
as far as an uncertain state of health will permit, 
towards forwarding the great ends of virtue and 
happiness in Ireland, regarding as I do the present 
state of that country's affairs as an opportunity 
154 



HIS CORRESPONDENCE WITH GODWIN 

which if I, being thus disengaged, permit to pass 
unoccupied, I am unworthy of the character which 
I have assumed." 

To Miss Hitchener, whom he implores in vain 
to join him in his noble undertaking, he ex- 
claims : — 

" Oh, my dearest friend, when I think of the 
uncertainty and transitoriness of human life 
and its occupations, when I consider its fleeting 
prospects and its fluctuating principles, how 
desirous am I to crowd into its sphere as much 
usefulness as possible ! We have but a certain 
time allotted to us in which to do its business : 
how much does it become us to improve and 
multiply this time; and to regard every hour 
neglected, misspent, or unimproved, as so much 
lost to the cause of virtue, liberty, and happiness." 

It is the language of the pulpit — not a parody 
of that language, but the thing itself. Not 
otherwise do Messrs. Torrey and Alexander talk 
when they call upon us to redeem the time. 
But the figure which rises before our eyes when 
we read the eloquent appeal is not at all like that 
of Dr. Torrey, and not very much like that of Mr. 
Alexander. There is no modern parallel for it, 
but there is an old one. We are reminded of 
nothing so much as the blind enthusiasm of the 
Knight of La Mancha, so full of chivalry yet so 
devoid of humour, so eager to ride about re- 

155 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

dressing human wrong, yet so incapable of realiz- 
ing the actualities of the life about him. Shelley, 
in short, must be pictured, if we would picture 
him truly, as a Quixote of nineteen, steeped in 
Godwin's political philosophy — steeped in it far 
more deeply than Godwin himself — instead of 
picaresque romance, and sweeping his womankind 
along with him in the headlong welter of an 
enthusiasm which they could not help trying to 
simulate, though they were quite incapable of 
understanding it. 

And so, by way of Whitehaven and the Isle 
of Man, to Dublin. 



156 



CHAPTER XIV 

THE EXPEDITION TO IRELAND 

Shelley's Irish Mission does not seem to have 
been taken very seriously by any one except 
Miss Hitchener, who had to be assured, again 
and again, that the missionary feared no foe, 
and that the danger of the dagger, the bowl, and 
even the dungeon, was negligible. Her courage 
was not screwed up to the point of joining the 
expedition, even when her attention was directed 
to the intrepid examples of Harriet and Eliza, 
who apprehended " no inconveniences but those 
of a wet night and sea-sickness." Perhaps sea- 
sickness itself seemed to her too awful a peril to 
be faced without necessity. 

Godwin, at the same time, wrote urging Shelley 
to go slowly; and in truth he had little oppor- 
tunity of going at any other pace. Ireland was 
not then looking out for a Saviour — or, at all 
events, it did not accept Shelley in that char- 
acter. The public of Dublin, eager as that of 
Athens to be entertained by " some new thing," 
viewed him, rather, as it might have viewed an 
Infant Prodigy or a Boy Preacher. His Irish 
servant — one Daniel Healey — entered into the 
spirit of the thing and gave out, to his intense 
annoyance, that he was only fifteen years of age. 

157 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

There is abundance of credible testimony to the 
effect that he looked no more. 

So nothing happened which need delay any 
one except the antiquary who burrows after 
odds and ends of information. Shelley did, in- 
deed, address a public meeting; but it was not 
a meeting called to hear him. He was merely 
one of the speakers who responded to a vote of 
thanks to the Protestants who had attended a 
Catholic gathering; and none of the papers 
thought the speech worth reporting at any 
length, though the Dublin Journal printed a 
letter from a correspondent who wished to bear 
public witness to his disgust at observing " with 
what transport the invectives of this renegade 
Englishman against his native country were 
hailed by the assembly." As for the Address to 
the Irish People, which was distributed in the 
streets of Dublin, and sent to " sixty public- 
houses," no reader of the present day — not even 
Sir Edward Carson — would be likely to regard it 
as an inflammatory manifesto. It is a docu- 
ment almost as sober as one of Mr. St. Loe 
Strachey's tracts. 

There were indiscretions in it, no doubt; but 
they were the indiscretions of a youthful philo- 
sopher ingeminating peace where there was none. 
In his desire to be absolutely fair between Pro- 
testants and Catholics, Shelley took occasion to 
remind the latter, not only of the Inquisition and 
the Massacre of Saint Bartholomew, but also of 
" the vices of monks and nuns in their con- 
158 



THE EXPEDITION TO IRELAND 

vents." Mr. St. Loe Strachey, being a good deal 
older than Shelley when he took to writing tracts, 
would doubtless have known better than to do 
that ; but much of the rest is thoroughly worthy 
of Mr. Strachey. For instance : — 

" I wish to impress upon your minds that 
without virtue or wisdom there can be no liberty 
or happiness; and that temperance, sobriety, 
charity, and independence of soul will give you 
virtue, as thinking, inquiring, reading, and talking 
will give you wisdom. Without the first the last 
is of little use, and without the last the first is a 
dreadful curse to yourselves and others." 

That, it will be allowed, is more platitu- 
dinous than revolutionary; and it reminds one 
of nothing so much as Mr. Strachey trying to 
defend the pockets of the well-to-do by assuring 
the destitute that a new way of life is worth 
many old age pensions. And of course, Shelley 
failed, just as Mr. Strachey has failed, to con- 
vince the mass of his hearers that abstract virtues 
would be more helpful to them than concrete 
reforms. 

If Shelley cuts a more romantic figure as a 
reformer than Mr. Strachey does, that is because 
he was younger when he plunged into public 
life than one can easily believe Mr. Strachey to 
have been even in the nursery. He may have 
dreamt of the millennium in the spirit of a seer; 
but he worked for it in the temper of an under- 

159 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

graduate. The announcement of "a plan for 
proselytizing the young men of Dublin College " 
is dehghtful. "Those," Shelley thinks, "who 
are not entirely given up to the grossness of 
dissipation are, perhaps, reclaimable " : a senti- 
ment which will be specially entertaining to 
readers familiar with Lever's pictures of under- 
graduate life in Dublin at this period. Still more 
delightful is Shelley's description of his method 
of distributing his tracts : "I stand at the bal- 
cony of our window, and watch till I see a man 
who looks likely ; I throw a book to him." A 
description supplemented in one of Harriet's 
letters thus : — 

" I am sure you would laugh were you to see 
us give the pamphlets. We throw them out of 
window, and give them to men that we pass in 
the streets. For myself, I am ready to die of 
laughter when it is done, and Percy looks so 
grave. Yesterday he put one into a woman's 
hood of a cloak ; she knew nothing of it, and we 
passed her. I could hardly get on, my muscles 
were so irritated." 

That was all. Godwin continued to write 
Shelley letter after letter, imploring him to go 
slowly and do nothing which might provoke 
bloodshed ; but there was never any danger of 
that. The masses were not moved, and the 
authorities were not alarmed. Even when a box 
of pamphlets, addressed to Miss Hitchener, was 
160 



THE EXPEDITION TO IRELAND 

opened in the Customs House at Holyhead, the 
Secretary of State took no steps beyond making a 
few inquiries about Miss Hitchener ; and Shelley 
himself, like the seconds of French duellists, when 
they cannot get their principals to fight, decided to 
regard his mission as terminated. 

"I submit," he wrote to Godwin; " I shall 
address myself no more to the illiterate. I will 
look to events in which it will be impossible that 
I can share, and make myself the cause of an 
effect which shall take place ages after I have 
mouldered in the dust." 

So he packed and departed for Wales; but 
before we follow him there we may pause to 
review his personal relations with his wife and 
the other women who were presently, and for 
some time, to constitute, as it were, his smala, 
or his caravan. 

Though Ireland received him coldly, regarding 
him as a freak rather than a prophet, he evidently 
enjoyed, for a season, the rank of a prophet in 
his own household. He entirely dominated Har- 
riet, and he partially dominated even Eliza — 
partly, one imagines, in virtue of his higher social 
origin, but mainly by his intellectual superiority 
and the communicable contagion of his enthu- 
siasm. The seeds of opposition and revolt were 
doubtless there. The ideals of the barmaid who 
does not see what is the use of marrying a gentle- 
man unless she achieves the position of a great 
L 161 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

lady were doubtless at the back of the brains of 
both of them, ready to assert themselves when 
custom staled Shelley's infinite variety ; but 
they were, for the time being, dormant. 

Eliza occupied the privileged position of Trea- 
surer of the party. She " keeps," Shelley writes, 
" our common stock of money for safety in some 
hole or corner of her dress." He did not yet dis- 
like her, but believed himself in a fair way to 
convert her from " prejudice " to virtue. Already 
at Keswick he had written of her as " a woman 
rather superior to the generality," adding : " She 
is prejudiced ; but her prejudices I do not con- 
sider unvanquishable. Indeed, I have already 
conquered some of them." Now, at Dublin he 
reports progress, representing Eliza's interests as 
divided between the useful and the philo- 
sophical : — 

" You have not seen Tom Paine's works. Eliza 
is going to employ herself in collecting the useful 
passages, which we shall publish. She is now 
making a red cloak, which will be finished before 
dinner." 

The implication is that Eliza was in a hurry to 
finish the red cloak in order that she might be 
free to set to work compiling an Anthology of 
Rationalism. She may have said so; but it is 
more likely that she was biding her time, play- 
ing a waiting game, watching for the moment 
when it would be proper for her to exhort Harriet 
162 



THE EXPEDITION TO IRELAND 

to " stand up for herself," put an end to this 
wandering Bohemian existence, and insist upon 
an estabHshment worthy of her social station. 

Harriet, however, was young enough to think 
it better fun to ramble about in quest of adven- 
tures than to settle down to sedate respectability. 
She seems to have enjoyed herself, and to have 
been really under that hypnotic influence which 
Eliza only affected to undergo. She did not 
merely accept her husband's enthusiasms and 
eccentricities in the spirit in which the wives of 
City men accept the fact that their husbands 
must catch the nine-fifteen every morning, and 
may sometimes be kept late at the office. She 
actually adopted his enthusiasms (to the best of 
her knowledge and belief) and wrote letters about 
them in a prose style which echoed his even to 
the point of substituting " hath " for " has " and 
interlarding "thee's" and "thou's" among the 
" you's." She became enthusiastic, at his bidding, 
not onl)^ about vegetarianism, which was one of 
Shelley's hobbies at this time, but also about Miss 
Hitchener. 

Her own particular friend in Ireland was a 
Miss (or Mrs.) Nugent, first referred to as " sitting 
in the room now and talking to Percy about 
virtue." She was an elderly needlewoman em- 
ployed by a furrier; and it is not clear hoAv 
Shelley came to know her. If she had simply 
walked into his apartment and proposed a con- 
versation about virtue he would, at that period 
of his life, have thought the introduction a 

L2 163 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

sufficient one. Harriet liked her and asked her to 
dinner (adding a roast fowl to the diet of herbs 
for the occasion), and waxed eloquent over her 
qualities and her misfortunes : — 

" This excellent woman, with all her notions 
of Philanthropy and Justice, is obliged to work 
for her subsistence — to work in a shop which is 
a furrier's : there she is every day confined to her 
needle. Is it not a thousand pities that such a 
woman should be dependent upon others ? . . . 
The evening is the only time she can get out in 
the week. . . . She told Percy that her country 
was her only love when he asked her if she was 
married. ..." 

Et cetera. One notes the circumstance because 
Harriet and Mrs. Nugent engaged in a consider- 
able correspondence, first printed in the Nezv York 
Nation in 1889, Avhich throws fresh light upon 
some of the incidents of Shelley's life ; but no 
story arises out of it for the moment, and the 
most striking point is that this eulogy of Mrs. 
Nugent, whom Harriet had only met once, was 
addressed to Miss Hitchener, whom she had never 
even seen. Her idea was, apparently, that, just 
as her marriage had been no ordinary marriage, 
so her husband was no ordinary husband, but 
must be regarded, rather, as the founder and 
managing director of a joint-stock company 
registered for philosophical and philanthropic 
purposes, and that Miss Hitchener was a fit 
164 



THE EXPEDITION TO IRELAND 

and proper person to introduce fresh emotional 
capital, and join the board. She let her heart 
overflow and gushed to Miss Hitchener, just as 
Shelley himself did, addressing her as " My dear 
Sister," and " My dear Friend." 

So the appeal to the Sussex school-mistress to 
join the party came from the girl wife as well as 
the boy husband. " In compliance," Shelley 
writes, " with Harriet's earnest solicitations, I 
entreat you instantly to come and join our 
circle; to resign your school — all, everything, 
for us and the Irish cause." He continues : 
" £400 per an. will be quite enough for us all : 
our publications would supply the deficiency." 
As for thoughts of gratitude and obligation — 
such things may be left to " the grovelling sons 
of commerce and aristocracy." Evangelists must 
not entertain them. On the contrary : " Let us 
mingle our identities inseparably, and burst upon 
tyrants with the accumulated impetuosity of our 
acquirements and resolutions." There will be no 
scandal, for there are no grounds for any : " Who 
will credit that, when I made a Scotch marriage 
with a woman who is handsome, any criminality, 
of the nature of infidelity, can be attached 
to me ? " As for Miss Hitchener's personal 
attractions : — 

" You have said you are not handsome, but, 
though the sleekness of your skin, the symmetry 
of your form, might not attract the courtiers of 
Dublin Castle, yet that tongue of energy and that 

X65 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

eye of fire would awe them into native insigni- 
ficance, and command the conviction of those 
whose hearts vibrate in unison with justice and 
benevolence." 

Thus Shelley; and Harriet simultaneously 
exclaims : — 

" How good you are thus to busy yourself 
about us in this way. Amiable woman ! If I had 
known thee before, it would have been delightful : 
but I must be content, I know you now." 

She goes on to tell Miss Hitchener the story of 
her early life and first affections. First she had 
doted on soldiers, though she had never wished 
to marry one — " not so much on account of 
their vices as from the idea of their being killed." 
Then she had thought she would like to marry a 
clergyman : " Strange idea this, was it not ? 
But being brought up in the Christian religion, 
'twas this gave rise to it." Then Shelley had 
introduced her to atheism, and this had frightened 
her because she believed in eternal punishment : 
" Now, however, this is entirely done away with, 
and my soul is no longer shackled with such idle 
fears." And there is another notable respect in 
which her views have expanded : — 

" You cannot suppose, my dear friend, that I 
suspect you of jealousy : 'twould be entertaining 
an idea wholly unworthy of you. Jealousy is a 
passion known only to the illiberal and selfish 
part of mankind, who have been corrupted and 
166 



THE EXPEDITION TO IRELAND 

spoilt by the world : but this forms no part of 
you — 'tis utterly impossible." 

The utterances are those of a commonplace 
mind temporarily under a spell. The spell, 
in time, would lose its potency, and Harriet 
would revert to type, — ^helped to do so by the 
elder sister who was so many years nearer to 
their father's tavern. Meanwhile she lived in a 
dream, making what she could of the vision. 
She echoed Shelley's phrases about vegetarianism 
and the wrongs of Ireland; she also echoed his 
invitation to Miss Hitchener: "Do, dear, hasten 
your departure for us. To Midsummer ! That 
will be such an immense time before it arrives." 

Miss Hitchener, of course, was old enough to 
know better ; and probably she did know better. 
If she did not ultimately act as one ^^^^^uld 
have expected a school-mistress to act, sll least 
she hesitated as one would have expected a 
school-mistress to hesitate. She had acquired a 
certain stock of common sense from the practice 
of her calling, though she was a silly woman by 
nature. Apparently she was startled into the bold 
and foolish course by a sudden outbreak of just 
that scandal which Shelley had told her that she 
need not fear on account of his position as a 
respectable married man. She had not sense 
enough to hold her tongue about her correspond- 
ence with the brother of her soul ; and when 
people heard about it, they began to say — what 
people invariably do say in such cases. 

167 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

Shelley believed that the slander had been 
launched by Mrs. Pilfold, who wished Miss 
Hitchener to remain in Sussex as her daughter's 
governess; but that is incredible. Women in 
Mrs. Pilfold's position do not entrust their 
daughters to governesses, however competent, 
concerning whom such slanders are afloat. It 
is far likelier that Miss Hitchener boasted of 
the invitation, and that her neighbours put an 
obvious, albeit, as it happened, an erroneous 
interpretation upon it. They said that she was 
going to the Shelleys in order to be Shelley's 
mistress ; and then the fat was in the fire to such 
an extent that even her father saw the blaze. 

In a moment of expansiveness Shelley had 
suggested that he too should join the party in 
a large house which he proposed to take in 
Wales. There was a farm attached to the man- 
sion; and Mr. Hitchener might just as well give 
up his public-house and manage it, while Shelley, 
his wife, his sister-in-law, and Mr., Mrs., Miss 
Godwin, and Mrs. Nugent, who had also been 
invited, were talking about virtue. " It might 
be a comfort to his declining years," Shelley 
thought, " to see you independently settled." 
This at a time when Shelley had not the means 
either of paying, or of giving security for, the first 
quarter's rent of the mansion which he talked of 
taking. It is no wonder, in the circumstances, 
that Mr. Hitchener attached more importance to 
the calumnies than to the visionary promise of 
an independent and secure position. He did so, 
168 



THE EXPEDITION TO IRELAND 

and Shelley wrote him a letter in the manner of 
Jupiter Tonans hurling a thunderbolt : — 

" I had some difficulty in stifling an indignant 
surprise in reading the sentence of your letter in 
which you refuse my invitation to your daughter. 
How are you entitled to do this ? Who made you 
her governor ? Did you refuse this refusal from 
her to communicate to me ? No, you have not. 
. . . Believe me, such an assumption is as impo- 
tent as it is immoral. You may cause your daugh- 
ter much anxiety, many troubles, you may stretch 
her on a bed of sickness, you may destroy her 
body, but you are defied to shake her mind. . . . 
Your ideas of Propriety (or to express myself 
clearer of morals) are all founded on considera- 
tions of profit. . . . Neither the laws of Nature 
nor of England have made children private pro- 
perty. Adieu, when next I hear from you I hope 
that time will have liberahzed your sentiments." 

It is not unamusing to picture the retired 
smuggler who had become a publican spelling 
out that communication in the bar parlour ; and 
we will leave him spelling it out while we return 
to Shelley. 



169 



( IIATTKR XV 

IN WALKS .\.\l> Al' LNNIMOI I'll III K Sll l•;|,|,|';^ S .KHNKI) 

n\ iMiss NIK iii:\i;i{ 

'rill', \\v\\ siixjrr ol' I lie pil«^rimjiL»(' WMS Nnnt- 
^'vvilll. ill Itmlnorshirc, v\i)sv l<> I he (iTovcs' plncc 
III (^vm lOInn '' nn old I'nmily house," wrolc 
Iljinicl lo IMrs. Niiocnl, ''willi .1 JMrm oi" *J()() 
iicivs meadow Iniul/' Tii.-il is llic Imimi which 
Shelley iiuiled INlr. Ililelieiier lo m:iHMn(\ inslejui 
oi' his |)iil>lie house, wiiile I he resi ol the pnrlv 
were Inlkin;*' nboiil \ irhie. There wns only one 
ohslnele h) he oxcreoine Ihe paymeni ol" I he 
I'eid ; but. Hint (lilVuMilty pi-oN'ed insii|>(M:il»le. 

Shelley had hoped that the elder IMedwiii would 
enable hiiu to raise Ihe iuou(>y ; but IMedwiu either 
could not, or would iiol.doso. ('onsecpieiit ly tlu* 
virtiK' parly had lo be postponed, and Shelley 
had to \aeaU> Ihe premises in a hurry, aud ask 
Ihe (iroves lo piil iiim up while he made other 
arran^'cmeuls. 'There seems to be a beoinniu^ of 
discoMh'ul. ir iiol ol" pee\ ishuess, in Harriet's 
4'omplaiut lo Mrs. Nui>'eul : '* We ar(^ lo beoiu 
lra\('lliuj»' aji>ain soou, aiul where lo bend our 
sle[)s I know no!;" aud there are also certain 
iulVreuees to be drawu from her remarks about 
I he (Jro\ (\s : — 



** l*(>rcy is related lo Mr. (IroNc, and his wile is 
170 



IN WALKS AND AT LVNINlOIITir 

a very picnsniil woinnii, llio' Ion lorinMl lo ix^ 
a)»r('('nl)lc. lie is n \ rvy proud innn. Tin rd'oir, 
yon may •^ncss liou \\v |>;iss our liinc/' 



II is I lie cli.'irnrlci'isl ic ii(>U- «►!" Ilic hridc wlu) 
l'<'('ls lii.'il iicr ImsJMiiwrs iTlMJivcs rcj^inrd her 
:is '' nol (Hiil.c/' . . . Ihoiiju'h I licy r<'C(;iv(! Iicr 
Willi <"oiirU'sy I'oi' iicr liushMiKTs sjikc. '"' Sliick 
lip '' .ind "■ slniid (►llish " nrc Ilic cpil lids \vlii<"li 
llnrrici would prol>n.l)ly luivc applied lo I ho 
(■r(»V('S il'slic had spok<'ii in her vcniairnhir. ^^ VVo 
iiinsi rcMiniii here," she says, "" iiiilil we receive 
rciiiil lances IVoiii Loixlon ''; and I here is pallios 
in llial '' innsl." There was l.allv of /.^'oin/.'; lo 
Ilaly, lull : "" VV<' lliiiik ol' ••oino- lo Hie seaside 
iiiilil onr passports <'oine." VVIicik'c <m<' inl'ers 
lliai iieilher Mariiel nor Mrs. drove desired ilni 
visil lo ('win Pilau lo he a ion^' one; and very 
likely Shelley and his liosl. were al one wilh I, he 
ladies in I his inalier. II was ai (!win Klan Ihal. 
Shelley wrole, I hon<.^h he did nol I hen prini, a 
ceiiain Leiier lo Lord PilicnlxMoii^j^h wlii<'li ini<^'hl 
he expcclcMJ l(» make Iroiihic; and <»ii<* can 
iina|»ine Mr. (irove |>rererrinn Ihal. Ilic li<Hihle 
should \)c. made elscwiiere lliaii al his house. 

The llalian pi'ojecl, however, wjis ahaiidoned, 
prohahly h)r lack oi" Innds; and Slielley sel oiil. 
lor ("hcpslow, (Godwin ha,d ^iven him an a.(ldi'(;HH 
IlK're; hill lli(Mpja.rl<M's, when inspce.lcd, proycti 
disappoini in<4. The lad, appears in a. h'l l.er in 
which llarriel expresses her rc^rel. Ihal Mrs. 
NugciiL cannol visil her: 

171 



THE ROIMANTTC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

'' Continue, oli ! nniiablc woman, tlie path 
ninrkcd out to thee by virtue iuu\ lunuanity, and 
let not the vvhisperinos ol" sehishuess in us take 
thee from so hiudabU^ an undertaking. We may 
yet meet ere this world shall close our eyes, and 
that we both desire it oiu* hearts are the best 
judge. . . . >Vhen we arrived at Chepstow wc 
found the house not half built and by no means 
large enough for our family." 

Godwin seems to have considered that it ought 
to have been large enough for a man of Slielley's 
age antl income; and he made remarks on the 
subject which Shelley would have resented if 
they had been offered by any one for whose char- 
acter and philosophy he had had less regard. 
As it was, he politely explained his objections to 
" pigging it " in a rickety labourer's cottage, and 
passed on. He started for Ilfracombe, but got 
no farther than Lynmouth, whence Harriet re- 
ports progress to jMrs. Nugent in a more con- 
tented letter than that written from Cwm Elan : — 

" We have taken the only cottage there was, 
which is most beautifully situated, conunanding 
a line view of the sea, with mountains at the side 
and behind us. Vegetation is more luxurious 
here tlian in any part of England. We have roses 
and myrtle creeping up the sides of the house, 
which is thatched at the top. It is such a little 
place that it seems more like a fairy scene than 
anything in reality. All the houses are built in 
172 



IN WALES AND AT LYNMOUTH 

the cottage style, and I suppose there are not 
more than thirty in all. We send to Barnstaple 
for everything, and our letters come but twice a 
week. ... It seems as if nature had intended 
this place should be so romantic, and shut out 
from all other intercourse with the neighbouring 
villages and towns." 

That letter is dated June 30 — a time of the 
year when it is not difficult to live happily at 
Lynmouth, even in a cottage which, as Shelley 
writes to Godwin, " exceeds not in its accommo- 
dations the dwellings of the peasantry which 
surround it." Harriet insisted, indeed, that it 
was not a good enough place to invite Godwin 
to ; but it was quite good enough for her and her 
husband ; and there is evidence that she and 
Shelley were still fairly well pleased with each 
other. Shelley read, while at Lynmouth, The 
Empire of the Nairs ; or, the Rights of Woman, by 
Chevalier Lawrence ; and he wrote to the author, 
expressing his admiration and defining his own 
attitude towards the marriage question : — 

'' I am a young man, not yet of age, and mar- 
ried to a woman younger than myself. Love 
seems inclined to stay in the prison, and my only 
reason for putting him in chains, whilst convinced 
of the unholiness of the act, was a knowledge 
that, in the present state of society, if love is not 
thus villainously treated, she, who is most loved, 
will be treated worse by a misjudging world. 

173 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

In short, seduction, which term could have no 
meaning in a rational society, has now a most 
tremendous one." 

It was understood, however, that love was not 
to be kept in solitary confinement. There were 
to be as many visitors as possible to keep the 
ball rolling in the conversations about virtue. 
Godwin's adopted daughter Fanny was invited; 
but Godwin would not let her come, feeling 
that he ought to make his disciple's personal 
acquaintance before trusting him so far. Miss 
Hitchener came, however, having at last given up 
her school and promised to remain " for ever " ; 
and Harriet's opinion of the guest thus quartered 
on her is, of course, the opinion which we are most 
anxious to hear. We get it in a letter to Mrs. 
Nugent ; and it is favourable, and even enthu- 
siastic, though there are points in the enumeration 
of her merits at which it seems possible to read 
between the lines : — 

" Our friend. Miss Hitchener, is come to us. 
She is very busy writing for the good of mankind. 
She is very dark in complexion, with a great 
quantity of long, black hair. She talks a great 
deal. If you like great talkers she will suit you. 
She is taller than me or my sister, and as thin as 
it is possible to be. . . . 

"... Miss Hitchener has read your letter, 
and loves you in good earnest — ^lier own expres- 
sion. I know you would love her did you know 
174 



SHELLEYS JOINED BY MISS KITCHENER 

her. Her age is thirty. She looks hke as if she 
was only twenty-four, and her spirits are excel- 
lent. She laughs and talks and writes all day." 

Miss Hitchener was to prove to be shallow; 
but Harriet, who wrote " like as if," was not to 
be expected to foresee that. She was, at any rate, 
disposed to make the best of Miss Hitchener, and 
does not seem to have doubted that her writings 
contained an instructive message to her age. One 
would give a good deal to see them. Medwin 
quotes, or professes to quote, one line from them 
— ^the first line of a Feminist Ode, running : 
" All are men — ivomen and all " ! But it seems 
fairer to judge her by her published works, even 
though these belong to a later period of her 
development, and appeared long after her depar- 
ture from the Shelleys' roof. There are copies 
of two such works in the Library of the British 
Museum. 

One of them is a long poem of no importance 
on " The Weald of Sussex," noticeable only for a 
reference to those lakes and mountains of Wales 
which the author had seen in Shelley's company, 
and of which she says that " language is inade- 
quate to give a just idea of their beauty." The 
other is " The Fireside Bagatelle containing 
Enigmas on the Chief Towns of England and 
Wales " — composed, according to the Preface, in 
" the hope that it may be found useful " and 
because the autlior considers " everything, how- 
ever insignificant in itself, yet acceptable, if in 

175 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

the slightest degree ealeulated to exeite in young 
minds a spirit of inquiry and ^ taste lor litera- 
ture," and hiunehed under the auspices of a 
** Dedicatory Ode affectionately addressed to 
some Amiable Young Friends '' : 

Domestic plcasuirs will insure 
Contenimeni^ health, and ease : 

Theij all of earthlij Miss secure^ 
And never fail to please. 

For Ho)ne\^ the empire of the heart ; 

Its circle Nature's trace ; 
Then, jaithful to her wisJi, impart 

Affection's ivinning grace. 

It soothes, relines. it softens man. 

It solaces his care ; 
In Paradise its source began. 

And. follozved, leads u^<t there. 
Then let us still its course pursue. 
Agreeable to Xature true. 

That, when we get doAvn to bed-rock, seems to 
be the essence of INIiss Ilitchener's message to her 
age. It is an admirable message, laclving nothing 
except originality : a most suitable message for 
the head-mistress of a Seminary for Young Ladies 
to deliver. That the author of it should have 
been urgently, insistently, and repeatedly sum- 
moned from her Seminary to converse about 
virtue and God and "" innate passions " with the 
author of Epipsychidion is one of the most 
176 



SIIKLLKYS JOINED JiY MISS HITCHENER 

curious lacts in tiie hist(jry ol J^kiglish Litera- 
ture — only less curious, indeed, than her own 
wilhngness to engage in that queer enterprise, 
and to sacrifice to it a hierative and reputable 
means ol' livelihood. There is nothing to be said 
except that she was a silly woman, and that 
Shelley was too young to understand how silly 
she was, being only nineteen when he summoned 
her to his side, and only twenty when she obeyed 
the summons. 

'I'hough only twenty, however, he seems al- 
ready to have been shaping a scheme and theory 
ol" life. His idea, almost though not quite formu- 
lated, was to be in the world but not of it, standing 
aside from lif(; that he might criticize it, holding 
a watching brief for humanity at large, aiming 
the shafts of right reason and hot indignation at 
tyrants and unjust judges as often as he saw his 
opportunity. Though he was beginning to write 
poetry — the first draft of " Queen Mab " belongs 
to this period — he was very modest about it. He 
saw himself chiefly as a prophet denouncing 
priests — a friend of man declaring war against 
oppressors. He pictured Miss Hitchener helping 
all his causes by " writing for the good of man- 
kind." He believed — and he had even persuaded 
Harriet to believe — that the delightful crusade 
might last for ever. 

It lasted, in fact, lor about four months. At 

the end of the four months the crusaders were in 

London, negotiating for the dissolution of their 

partnership. P^xaetly what had happened in the 

M 177 



THE RCBIANTU^ LIFE OF SllELl.EV 

nuantinir (>iu> oaunot say. I'or all [Uc a\ailal)lo 
statoiuouts i>n tho subjiH't aiv t\v parte stato- 
nionts. Tho inily impartial Nvituoss is lloixu. ^vho 
saw in tho prooiHclino-s m trial ol' strciiolh botAvooi\ 
Miss llitohonor aiul Eliza, ami roivanhHl both 
hidios as oqually objootionablc; but Uno'g's 
eviibnoo only biars upon tho last, soonos in the 
strug'olo. 

Sholloy had bursl in upon lK\ug in his chambors 
in the Tt inplo, and niado up his ipiarrol with him. 
Tinio, distance, aaid oxptM"i<\nc'o o{ Miss Eliza 
West brook's eonversatioual hal^its had evidently 
taught hin\ to take a Irner \'iew of lU>gg's sup- 
posed gallantries. Perhaps Harriet had herself 
confessed to having misunderstood, and there- 
fore exaggerated, Hogg's attentiims. She and 
lb\og had both been young enough to be per- 
mitted to be silly. At all events, it was om'e more 
glad cont'ident morning between the two friends; 
and Hogg dined with the Shelleys on the day of 
^liss llitehener's departure, and allowed himself 
to be made useful in keeping up appearances at 
the hour of strained relations. Shelley said he 
had an engagement; Harriet said she had a 
headache; Hogg was told off to take Eliza and 
^liss Hitchener for a walk, keeping the peace 
between them. 

" With the Brown Demon on my right arm," 
he writes, " and the Black Diamond on my left, 
we went forth into St. .lames's Fark, and walked 
there, and in the neighbouring parks, for a long 
178 



SIIELLKYS JOINKl) liY MISS IIITCMKNKH 

time, a very Um^ tiirK-. ' 'i'licso were, my jf:wtls,' 
us (^)rric;lia proudly cxcluirnrd." 

'lM»c ladies sn;i|)j)(;d al: oacli ollur, firing ihc;ir 
sliots across tficMr (tavJilicr as vv(tll as their o(>j)or- 
t,iinil,i<s jj.llovv(t(J. Miss Weslhrook, not })eing a 
iri.'il,<;li Tor Miss IIitcti(*nor in dialectics, [)rcscntly 
relapsed into silence and sulks. Miss Jlifxilicncr 
then rnonopoli/ftd heres(;r>rt. Miss Westbrook was 
annoye(J ; and wlien she got Hogg aJone, she let 
him know it. 

" How (tould yon talk to tluit nasty creature 
so mu(rh V " she asked. " How c(iuld you permit 
her to prate; so long to you ? VVhy did you en- 
coui'agc her ? ilaj'riet will he seriously displeased 
with you, I assure; you; sFic will be very angry." 

Hut tJKi) dinner was sftrved ; .'ind immediately 
alter dinner Miss Hitehener wms handed into her 
coa<jh ; and that is all that Hogg has to tell us. 
Tfic rest is best related in Hairiet's communi- 
cation to Mrs. Nugent :- - 

" The lady I have so often mentioned to yovi, 
of the name of Hitehener, has to our very great 
happiness left us. We were entire;ly deejeived in 
her character as to her re|)ublicanism, and in 
short ctverything else which she pretended to be. 
We were not long in finding out our great dis- 
appointment in. her. As to any noble disinterested 
views, it is utterly impossible for a selfish char- 
acter to fef;l them. Sfic built all her hopes on 
b( ing able to separate me from my dearly loved 
M 2 170 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

Percy, and had the artfulness to say that Percy 
was really in love with her, and it was only his 
being married that could keep her within bounds. 
Now, Percy had seen her twice before his mar- 
riage. He thought her sensible, but nothing 
more. She wrote continually, and at last I wrote 
to her, and was very much charmed with her 
letters. We thought it a thousand pities that 
such a mind as hers appeared to be should be left 
in a place like that she inhabited. We were, 
therefore, very urgent for her to come and live 
with us ; which was no sooner done than we found 
out our mistake. It was a long time ere we could 
possibly get her away, till at last Percy said he 
would give her £100 per annum. And now, thank 
God, she has left us, never more to return. We 
are much happier now than all the time she was 
with us." 

Shelley's testimony is to the same effect. He 
writes to Hogg : — 

" The Brown Demon, as we call our late tor- 
mentor and school-mistress, must receive her sti- 
pend. I pay it with a heavy heart and unwilling 
hand; but it must be so. She was deprived by 
our misjudging haste of a situation, where she 
was going on smoothly : and now she says that 
her reputation is gone, her health ruined, her 
peace of mind destroyed by my barbarity; a 
complete victim to all the woes, mental and 
bodily, that heroine ever suffered. This is not all 
fact ; but certainly she is embarrassed and poor, 
180 



SHELLEYS JOINED BY MISS KITCHENER 

and we being in some degree the cause, we ought 
to obviate it. She is an artful, superficial, ugly, 
hermaphroditical beast of a woman, and my 
astonishment at my fatuity, inconsistency, and 
bad taste was never so great as after living four 
months with her as an inmate. What would Hell 
be, were such a woman in Heaven ? " 

So that Miss Kitchener must at least be ac- 
quitted of the charge of having made trouble 
between Shelley and Harriet. Whether she failed 
to do so because she was too silly or because she 
was too ugly does not matter. She did after- 
wards try to make trouble by embroiling them 
with their neighbours; but that effort also was 
unsuccessful, though it did cause Shelley to write 
a letter in which he spoke of " the wiles of a 
soured and disappointed woman." Captain 
Pilfold, who was somehow or other dragged into 
the matter, declared that her calumnies were 
inconsistent with Mr. and Mrs. Shelley's " known 
moral and virtuous good characters." 

How long Shelley continued to pay Miss 
Kitchener her £100 a year is uncertain. She was, 
at any rate, too wise to rely upon it as her sole 
resource; and she and her sister started a girls' 
school at Edmonton, which prospered. Her pupils 
spoke of her with respect and affection ; and, as 
a middle-aged woman, she captured the heart of 
an Austrian officer, who married her and took her 
abroad. Let us bid farewell to her, and turn back 
to Shelley. 

181 



CHAPTER XVI 

DKPARTl HK KHOM I^YNMOIIII- LIKK AT TANVKALLT— 
A SKCOM) \ ISl'l' I() IHKLANl) 

We left Slicllov at LvTiniouth, where he was 
long" reniemherecl, not as a man of genius, bnt as 
a man who bU^w soa[>-bnhbles on the (h^orstep 
oi' Ins eottaoe. None tiie less lie was engaged 
in qneer attempts to drive his thonghts over tlie 
universe " like winged seeds to qnieken a new 
birth." He had with him several boxes full of 
pamphlets, setting fortli, among otlier things, that 
"■govermnent has no rights '' ; and he eorked them 
up in empty bottles, and pitehed the bottles into 
the Bristol Channel, in the same spirit of evangelis- 
tie zeal in whieh missionaries of another sehool 
of thought scatter traets in cabs and railway 
station waiting-rooms. Other copies of the docu- 
ment were dispersed over Exmoor by means of 
toy balloons on the clianec that a copy here or 
there might stir tlie stagnant pool of a bucolic 
mind. 

At the same time Shelley engaged Mr. Syle of 
Barnstaple to print his Letter to Lord Kllen- 
borough, protesting against the imprisonment 
of Daniel Isaac Eaton for publishing " a blas- 
phemous libel on the Holy Scriptures.'' ' His 

' From th(^ pni ol' Tom Paiue. 
182 



DEPARTURE FROM T.YNMOTJTII 

punisfimcnt, il. scoined to SFifllcy, Mir^ijfyh a less 
grave matter tlian tho criioKixion oi' Christ, was 
equally unjustifiable ; and we need not waste 
words in supportinj^ so of)vious a contention. 
The holier the Holy Scriptures the less their naad 
of a testimonial from the Old Bailey. Rut those 
were the days in which Kcate told the Eton boys 
that he should enforce purity of heart with the 
birch ; and Keate's point of view was fairly re- 
presentative of that of the governing classes. It 
was not merely an offence in their eyes to speak 
evil of dignitaries; it was even an offence to 
dispute with dignitaries. So there was trouble. 
Shelley's servant was arrested for distributing the 
tracts in Barnstaple, and was sentenced in the 
Mayor's Court to six months' imprisorment, or 
a fine of £200. 

No doubt Shelley would have paid the fine 
for him, if he had had the money; but he could 
no more, at that time, lay his hand on £200 
than on £200,000. He decided - urged, as one 
imagines, by the unanimous entreaties of his 
womankind — to leave the neighbourhood before 
worse befell him ; so he drove to Jlfracombe and 
crossed to Wales, where, at Tanyrallt, he found a 
landlord who promised to wait for the rent until 
he came of age. Thence, early in October, he 
proceeded to London, where he got rid of Miss 
Ilitchencr, in the circumstances already de- 
scribed. And that, oi course, was his opportunity 
of calling on Godwin. 

Godwin, who spent his summer holiday that 

183 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

year at Bristol, had set out down the channel 
to pay his young admirer a surprise visit, but 
had not arrived at Lynmouth until about three 
weeks after his departure. He found his lodg- 
ing, however, and reported that the landlady 
" quite loved the Shelleys," — loved them so well 
that she did not exercise her lien on their luggage, 
though they left without paying their bill. They 
paid it afterwards, however, in instalments; 
so that the fact is only mentioned as a proof of 
Shelley's power of fascinating women of all 
ages and classes. He was presently to exercise 
that power in Godwin's house ; so we will now 
note Harriet's first impressions of the Godwin 
household. 

" We have seen the Godwins. Need I tell 
you how I love them all ? . . . There is one of 
the daughters of that dear Mary Wolstoncroft 
living with him. She is nineteen years of age, 
very plain, but very sensible. The beauty of her 
mind fully overbalances the plainness of her 
countenance. There is another daughter of hers 
who is now in Scotland. She is very much like 
her mother, whose picture hangs up in his study. 
She must have been a most lovely woman. Her 
countenance speaks her a woman who would dare 
to think and act for herself." 

The daughter would also dare to think and act 
for herself in ways concerning which Harriet 
would, in due course, have a good deal to say ; but 
coming events cast no shadows before as yet. 
184 



LIFE AT TANYRAIJ.T 

Another fact whicfi fiarriet remarked was that 
the Godwins were "sometimes very much pressed 
ior enough ready money; " f)ut she was not to 
foresee that that circumstance also would affect 
her. On the whole she was pleased with every- 
body and everything, voting the second Mrs. 
Godwin " a woman of very great magnanimity," 
and finding " very great sweetness marked in her 
countenance." Of Godwin she says : — 

" G. is very much taken with Percy. Ho seems 
to delight so much in his society. It gives me 
so much pleasure to sit and look at him. Have 
you ever seen a bust of Socrates, for his head is 
very much like that ? " 

A little later, in November, she met Mary 
Godwin, who had returned from a visit to 
Scotland, accompanied by her Scotch friend 
Christy Baxter. Mary, however, was only fif- 
teen, and made no particular impression on 
Harriet, who, on her part, made no particular 
impression on Mary. The only recollection pre- 
served of that interesting meeting is Christy's; 
and Christy was chiefly struck by Harriet. 
Kven in her old age Christy spoke of " her beauty, 
her brilliant complexion and lovely hair, and the 
elegance of her purple satin dress;" so that 
Harriet enjoyed her hour of social triumph while 
sitting at table with the girl who was to deprive 
her of her husband. 

Progress towards intimacy with the Godwins, 

185 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

liowever, was slow. Godwin was no longer the 
enthusiast he had been when he wrote Political 
Justice. He kept a shop, and was very much 
married, sometimes inclining to the view of 
widows which one associates with the elder Mr. 
Wellcr. As for his disciples, he besought tliem 
not to take his doctrines too seriously, but to lend 
him money instead. Tliat was a strain upon 
Shelley's, as it would have been upon any man's, 
enthusiasm ; and he does not seem to have foimd 
Godwin's wife congenial. Godwin's friends, in- 
deed, seldom did find Mrs. Godwin congenial, 
and Charles Lamb's sketch of her as a disgusting 
woman who wore green spectacles seems to have 
expressed a widespread prejudice. So Shelley, 
on this occasion, left London without saying 
good-bye to Godwin; and Harriet changed her 
mind about his merits : — 

" Godwin, he too is changed, and filled with 
prejudices, and besides, too, he expects such 
universal homage from all persons younger than 
himself, that it is very disagreeable to be in 
company with him on that account, and he wanted 
Mr. Shelley to join the Wig party and do just 
as they pleased, which made me very angry, as we 
know what men the Wigs are just noAv. He is 
grown old and luiimpassioncd, therefore is not 
in the least calculated for such enthusiasts as we 
are." 

Such, with its characteristic faults of ortho- 
186 



LIFE AT TANYRALI.T 

grapliy and syntax, is Harriet's reconsidered 
verdict, delivered from the midst of the Welsh 
mountains, where she and Shelley remained 
rather more than three months, — which was 
rather a long time for Shelley to remain anywhere. 
His criticisms of life at the time were certainly 
not those of a Whig. The average Whig is a 
person who is only prevented from being a Tory 
by the exigencies of the party system. He prides 
himself on being rather more aristocratic than 
the Tories, whom he is always ready to join when 
the populace comes between the wind and his 
nobility. Aristocracy, for Shelley, though he was 
an aristocrat by birth, remained the accursed 
thing. There was too much aristocracy in Wales 
to please him ; and he poured out his soul on 
the subject to Hookham the Bond Street book- 
seller : — 

" There is more philosophy in one square inch 
of any tradesman's counter than in the whole 
of Cambria. It is the last stronghold of the most 
vulgar and commonplace prejudices of the aristo- 
cracy. Lawyers of unexampled villainy rule 
and grind the poor, whilst they cheat the rich. 
The peasants are mere serfs, and are fed and 
lodged worse than pigs. The gentry have all 
the ferocity and despotism of the ancient barons, 
without their dignity and chivalric disdain of 
shame and danger. The poor are as abject 
as samoyads, and the rich as tyrannical as 
bashaws." 

187 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

All that because an aristocratic old lady of 
Wales had said that atheists were worse than 
murderers. It pained Shelley to linger where 
that view prevailed ; and Harriet seems to have 
been as little enamoured of her mountain home. 
Her husband required her to learn Latin, and 
tried to drag her through the Odes of Horace. 
A lady whose English grammar was as bad as we 
have seen Harriet's to be was not likely to make 
much of those Odes or to desire to do so. Horace 
is too cynical a poet to appeal to young married 
women, — especially if they have to look most of 
the words out in the dictionary; so we may 
reasonably picture Harriet getting bored — won- 
dering when the county would call — desiring 
opportunities of frequenting bonnet shops. 

Doubtless, however, she was consoled by the 
thought that her deprivations were unlikely 
to be permanent : that Shelley would soon come 
of age, and if he did not exactly " come into his 
rights," would at least be in a position to raise 
money on his expectations. Then she might 
hope to keep her carriage, to wear purple and 
fine linen, to adorn her dinner table with costly 
silver plate, and to have delicate dishes handed 
to her by magnificent footmen in plush breeches, 
with padded calves and powdered hair. She and 
Eliza must often have anticipated such glories 
in their confidential talks. Meanwhile, she could 
accept her adventures in a tolerably good temper ; 
and some of the adventures were certainly strange 
and startling : — 
188 



LIFE AT TANYRALLT 

" Dear Sir, 

" I have just escaped an atrocious 
assassination. Oh, send £20 if you have it. 
You will perhaps hear of me no more ! 

" Your friend, 

" Percy Shelley." 

" Mr. Shelley is so dreadfully nervous to-day, 
from being up all night, that I am afraid what he 
has written will alarm you very much. We intend 
to leave this place as soon as possible, as our lives 
are not safe as long as we remain. It is no 
common robber we dread, but a person who is 
actuated by revenge, and who threatens my life 
and my sister's as well. If you can send us the 
money, it will greatly add to our comfort. 
" Sir, I remain your sincere friend, 

'' H. Shelley." 

Thus Shelley and Harriet, on the same sheet 
of paper, to Hookham of Bond Street; and 
all the biographers have been profoundly exer- 
cised by the question : What was the trouble 
about ? 

What Shelley said was that a mysterious 
stranger had broken into his house at the dead of 
night, exclaiming, " By God, I will be revenged ! " 
threatening, not only to murder him and his wife 
but also to ravish Eliza. There was, at any 
rate, no doubt that Shelley fired a pistol, and raised 
the household, declaring that his assailant had 
first fired at him, and that the ladies, coming 

189 



THE nOlNlANTU^ \.\VK OK SllKl>l,F.Y 

(K>\vivstMirs in {\\c\v uiu;lil>divss(>s s:nv ("vidnioes 
i>\ ;i sculllo. Itui \\\u\i \\i\x\ hnppiMicd ? TIimI. is 
a myst.rrv Jibonl, >vliich bi«>or.*i]>luM's \\i\xc nrivucd 
III i>n\M.l IcngMi. pi'oi)ouudiui;' mniiy Ihcorirs. 

TluMv is the ilieory iluit il\o iutnutiM* was 
jiu ordiujiry bnvivlnr: \\\c ll\<M>ry Wuil Shelloy 
iuxtMitrd the whoU^ story, nud {irvnnijjod lUc inisr- 
rn-scrnr. in ord« i" \o i»'ive l\inisoll' nn oxcnsr for 
Unix iiig tho n(Mgld)onrho(Ht xvithont imyinir tlu' 
tr.'nlos})roplo; the llu^^ry thai ShiMIoy's Irish 
sorxjinl wMs pnyino- l\is nmstiM' oni. Tor Ins iin- 
jM'isonnuMil ;it HnrnstapU^ : tho theory thai Miss 
llilrluMirr had slirrtd up rvil f(chni»' by dc- 
nonnciuaj Slu^llry io l\is ntMi^iiiionrs as a. niouster 
oT sedition: llir thoors that Sh(llry had iak(Mi 
t.oo nnu'h landannni a drui»' t(> which h(> was 
addiottd and tliat tho whole slory was t,l»c 
liallni'ination o{ an opiuni-c^vtrr. No one of tliosc 
th(H>rios is vtM'y ronvinoins;' : and anotlxr. based 
npon loral tradition, was ]>nl I'orwani l)y INliss 
IMarii'arti L. Crotts in llir Crnfitri/ Miq^dzinr for 
Oi'tobi r. 11)05 : 

" Sliolloy was in the habit of ('hnd>in.s^" np tl\o 
Konian slops nrar Tanyraht to \]\c rocky hcij^hl 
wl\ii*li was a. y,ra/.in,y; plact^ Um sliccp. IbTc 
SlicUcy hjid n\orc tlian ouoc ])nt an end to the Hfo 
of a. shcop affect I'd with st'ab or sonic other 
hn^'trinsi diseas(\ It was his habit to carry 
pisti>ls. an<l in his pity lor thi^ ]h^I])Icss en\Mtnres, 
he wonld |)nt an eiui io them by a kindly shot. 
This habit of Shelley's had so exasperated a 



A SKCOM) VISIT H) IKKLAM) 

lou^li }i\H(''tlii(ti ol' I.Ik »oij}/Ii in<>iinl,n,ifi h\uU'\) 
f;i,rrri(f\ M>i,iri<(l Kohui TjuiI- Iv/jih, Uinl, Iw and 
liJH Jri« imIii cnrrir down l,o 'r>i,fiyr;i,lll, on Mi/i.t. wild 
l-'rhninry iii^hl., Jind l'\vu.u lind a tiliol. iJirou^Jj 
\.\\r window, not, ttunniti^ l-o fnin(i< i .-ujy on<-, 
hill, lo |nv< I.Ik: irK'on v<rH<»d, nK<ldl' r a. j^ood 
Irif/liL SIk INy'K pinl-oi (ln,HlK"d in \.\tr \nut. 
Kohin « nl,' n-d Uk- room, wrcHl-Ud wil-li liiffi, 
Utuu'Mid liirn down, jukI l,li(tri CHCafx-d l.lirouj.^h I.Ik- 
window. II. WMM lii;; lonj/li l'a(tr! and I'orrn that 
SIkII'V ;d't«f'WJi.rdn hhw Ktnndinj/ rKJi,r 1,1k- l)'<(tli- 
l.rcr ; ;ukI whrn Sla-IKy j<a/<d out, jj,II l>f.wild< nd 
with thr- ni^fd, nlarin and thr- sli>i,l<if»p^, 1k' thought 
hr- fuj-w I.Ik' d« vil. I(<>hin j/;j.iiK d hi<i i ii<\. for 
SliclKy and IIj»,rri<t ;i,nd lar Hist* r I'll, th* |)I;m:(; 
jKxt <l'iy, nrv'T to r< l.iirn/' 



'riui.t vcrnion ol' Ijk- ;i.HHn.ijlt iw naid to n-ht u|)<;n 
tfut a.HHaila,rd/fi own cordVtH'.iori, »ri-'ulc to rrKfrifx-rH 
(»f I.Ik- (',v<}iv<H l';«.rnily who livfrd til 'r;j,nyrallh 
ironi 1 81.7 to IH(;5. On the wliol<', it Ih 
rnor*' <'r<-dihl'- tli;i.ri, finy ol' Uk- otficr verHioriH; 
though vv<- »ri;t.y ntill invoke thr hi.ud»i,nnni to 
;i.ci(,\ni\. \'nv SfM'.llcy'H rxtra,orditiary iWAWMH of 
l.« I r<<r, .'i.nd lii?i <*orK*<'i<>n<iiKHH tfiJi,t hiu ofiiniofjH 
had ntii.d' him im)M>)>ula,r, ;irKl hifi Jri.;i.f)ility to 
pay liin dehtH, to r;xf>lain the. [*n<ri()itatiori of 
hi', d< pjirturc. 

Then- is evidence, u.l ntiy rate, th;j,t thi'^ la>kt 
ilillienlty wjih juHt then ;w:ut('; and thr- £'20 wfii<'.fi 
IIo<*khM.m ,(it\. fiim in ord<-r that he mi^ht "' >{o 
to Duhhn l.o diKHi[)ttte the unj^leasaat imfjrr-HsionH 

191 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

associated with the scene of our alarm " was not 
sufficient to remove it. " Could you," he wrote 
to John Williams, en route, " borrow twenty-five 
pounds in my name to pay my little debts ? " 
" You would oblige me," he wrote to the same 
correspondent, on his arrival at Dublin, " by 
asking your brother to lend me £25." And then, 
a few days later, as proof at once of the urgency 
of his needs and the value of his security : 
" Bed well has written to tell me that all my bills 
are returned protested. I know not what to 
do." 

What he did is not quite clear; but he 
evidently got a loan from some one ; and, on the 
proceeds of it, he dashed off to Killarney, where 
he was staying when Hogg came to pay him a 
surprise visit at Dublin. Why he went to 
Killarney, and what he did when he got there, 
are equally mysterious matters. All that is 
certain is that he did not, this time, entangle 
himself in Irish politics or trouble his head about 
Catholic Emancipation. Thoughts of these 
things seem to have vanished from his mind 
as a dream vanishes when the sleeper wakes. 
No doubt he had other things to think of; 
and the nature of some of his reflections may be 
inferred from the fact that, when he quitted 
Killarney as precipitately as he had quitted Dublin 
— and Tanyrallt — he managed to leave Eliza 
behind. 

Ostensibly Eliza seems to have remained as a 
hostage for the payment of the rent ; but Shelley 
192 



A SECOND VISIT TO IRELAND 

nevertheless was full of triumph at the thought 
that he had got rid of her by a trick. Or so 
Hogg says. 

As a rule, Hogg tells us, Shelley was not much 
addicted to laughter. " I am convinced," he 
quotes Shelley as once saying to him, " that 
there can be no entire regeneration of mankind 
until laughter is put down." But, on this 
occasion, he did laugh, feeling that the re- 
generation of mankind was not at stake, and that 
the joke was really a good one. 

" He was evidently weary," Hogg writes, " of 
angelic guardianship, and exulted with a malicious 
pleasure that he had fairly planted her at last. 
He made no secret of his satisfaction, but often 
gave vent to his feelings with his accustomed 
frankness and energy. The good Harriet smiled 
in silence and looked very sly." 

That is our first hint of feelings which were to 
culminate in Shelley's description of Eliza as 
" this miserable wretch " and " a blind and 
loathsome worm." Things, however, were not 
yet quite as bad as that ; and Eliza, on her part, 
was a woman on whom hints were wasted. How 
she got clear of Killarney is not stated, but it 
probably would not have been beyond her power 
to give the landlord his due out of her own pocket. 
Whatever her methods, she soon followed Shelley 
and Harriet back to London, where, as Hogg 
writes, she " resumed her sovereign functions." 
N 193 



CHAPTER XVII 

ESTRANGEMENT FROM HARRIET 

We are approaching the moment of Shelley's 
estrangement from Harriet ; and we must, as in 
all such cases, distinguish between the immediate 
occasion of the trouble and its underlying causes. 

Those underlying causes lurked in the problem 
from the fii,-st, as they always lurk in the problem 
created Avhen a gentleman, who is also a man of 
intelligence nnd taste, marries a young woman 
genre barmaid. The barmaid in such circum- 
stances discovers that marriage to a gentleman 
does not suffice to make her a lady, acceptable 
to other ladies; while the husband, going into 
society without his wife, is pained to obsei'X'^e how 
other ladies differ from barmaids. The lofty 
doctrine, however sincerely held, that all men 
(and women) are born equal is inadequate to 
deliver him from his discomfort ; and various 
pin-pricks prejudice him in favour of what 
George Meredith called " leasehold marriages." 

Shelley had always entertained that prejudice. 
He had taken it from Godwin, long after 
Godwin himself had repudiated it ; and he was 
always poh'gamous in theory even when he was 
monogamous in practice. He talked of virtue and 
of free love in the same breath, regarding them, 
194 



ESTRANGEMENT FROM HARRIET 

it would seem, as two facets of the same precious 
jewel. He believed that Harriet shared his 
views, but did not foresee a time when either of 
them would be tempted to translate theory into 
action. " Love," we have seen him writing 
from Lynmouth to a perfect stranger, " seems 
inclined to stay in the prison;" but the time 
was even then approaching when Harriet's 
luxurious tastes and social ambitions would 
disconcert him. 

Our first clue to that is in a letter written from 
Wales to Fanny Godwin. Exactly what Fanny 
had said one does not know ; but she had evidently 
observed a certain pretentiousness in Harriet — 
a certain affectation of " style," alarming to 
simpler-minded persons; and Shelley wrote in 
Harriet's defence : — 

" How is Harriet a fine lady ? You indirectly 
accuse her in your letter of this offence — ^to me 
the most unpardonable of all. The ease and 
simplicity of her habits, the unassuming plainness 
of her address, the uncalculated connection of 
her thought and speech, have ever formed in 
my eyes her greatest charms ; and none of these 
arc compatible with fashionable life, or the 
attempted assumption of its vulgar and noisy 
eclat y 

Perhaps— when the spell was fresh, and there 
was Mrs. Nugent to talk to. Harriet had cer- 
tainly begun by behaving rather well in trying 
N 2 195 



TIIK KOMyVNTK^ \AVK OK SIIKLLKY 

(Mrcuinsi.jiiWH's, learning Lnliii with docility, if 
not with success, :uu\ wjiitiu^ patiently for her 
hushniul to c*)mc into his rijjfhts. Hut she 
(lid uol lucjin that sort of thinuj to jjjo on for 
ivvv, nor did l^^li/a. Underneath the a.])])arent 
Harriet, so siMi])le aiul studious, liiere was a. real 
Harriet wilii aspirations after «ijraiid(ur and 
oortrcoiis apparel : a, Harriet who looked forward 
lo trealino the lialin (iranunar as HicUy Sharp 
treated Ihe biUi^lisii diet ionary, and ridinj; in the 
Park, arrayed like Solonum in all his glory. 
Fanny (lodwin had divined thai, and Shelley 
was to discover it. 

Already, indeed, Harriet was trying to fortify 
her dubious social position by replenishing her 
wardrobe in <'oslly style, and clainouring for a 
carriage and silver ])laie. Tlu* slate of her lu alth 

she was tlu u expeeling her lirsl child may be 
a partial explanation of the sudden and inoppor- 
tun(* Avhiui ; but she may also have argued, not 
unreasonably, that if ShelUy could rush about 
raising money for the payment of (Jtxlwin's 
di'bls and the nH'latuation of Welsh morasses,' 
he might as well raise souie more while he was 
about it for the purpose of enabling his w^fc to 
live as a. lady. 

At all events she did ])refer such diMuands, - 
unnecessarily and iut)pportunely. Hogg declares 
tluvt no ou(> ev( r saw her rid(^ in \\cv carriage, and 

' ShrlK'v had iiisln*! IVoiu 'ranyiiilU !(» I>oiuh>n \vi(h a 
view l(» ori^Mni/ini; ii siil)S('ri|>l it>n to I'DUipUlf mm ciubiinlv- 
iiuM\l begun ill the lUMghbuurhoDd by n JDi'nl ImulDwiier. 

196 



ESTRANGEMENT FHOM TTARIMET 

tliat Sluvllcy wns so little in :i ])()siti<)ii lo pay for 
it that tlic creditor rcftMTcd I lie mMl.lcr l,o the 
bniliffs, who, not kuowiii*^ Shelley by sij^hl., I.ricd 
to jMTcsl. Ilo^^' ill mislake I'or him. Though 
llo^^ l:ui«^h('(l Uic incidciil off, il. Tniisl. none l\\v 
less \\i\.vc \)vv\i :\. cjiusc of i'riclion between Siielley 
and his wile; and, if Shelley had been like most 
other men, (hen; would ha,ve been a I'nrMier 
eause ol" rri<'(.ion in lljirriet's gross ineompel.encH; 
as a. h()usekee])er. 

Hogg draws a. vivid ])i<'tur(> of the diinicrs 
whii'h she sel. before him : 

" Some eonsidernble time after the a,p]K)inted 
hour a, roasted shoulder of imitton of theeojirsest., 
toughest grain, graced or disgr.iced the ill- 
sn])plied table; watery gravy thai; issued from 
the perverse join!, when it was cul, a, duty 
cormnonly assigned to me, seemed llx' most a.])t 
of all things to embody the conce])tion of penury 
and utl.(>r dtslilution. There were polaloes in 
every respect worthy of the nuitton; and the 
cheese, which was either forgotUui or uneatable, 
closed the ungeniM,l repjist. Somelimes ihei'e was 
a huge boiled leg of nuill.on, boiled till the bone 
was ready to dro]) on! of the meat, whi<'h shrank 
and started from il. on. all sides, wilhoul. nny 
sauce, but with turnips raw, and m.inil'esl.Iy 
unworthy to be boiled any longer. Somelimes 
there werc^ im])regnal)le beef-steaks — soles for 
shooting-shoes." 

One suspects with llogg, that, even tliongli 

197 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

Shelley was not like other men, such meals 
must sometimes have set him sighing for other 
n('sh-])()ts, and that the horrible luindiwork of 
Ilarrirt and the lodging-house landladies partially 
explains his vegetarianism, and his habit of 
rushing into bakers' shops, buying loaves of 
bread, and eating them ravenously as he walked 
down the strec^t. It does not follow that there 
was no cause for friction because Shelley was 
barely conscious of it at the time ; and still more 
dangerous possibilities lurked in the enlarging 
of his circle of ac(pia.iutances. 

It was at about this time that Queen Mab was 
privately ])rinted ; and its appearance made its 
author something of a personage, albeit only 
in a small coterie. Through Godwin, too, he 
came to know n. good many people, mainly 
cranks, who introduced him to other people, 
also mainly cranks. Tluy were disposed to 
make much of him--a good deal more than 
they w^ere disposed to make of Harriet. The 
w^omcn, in })nrticular, were disposed to make a 
good d(al more of him than of Harriet. 

They did not belong to the society which is 
now-a-days ciilled " smart." One would look 
for their modern an;ilogues in Bedford Park 
rather than in Berkeley Square, or even Ilarley 
Street, — at the Sesame Club or the Pioneer Club 
rather than at the Carlton, the Marlborough, the 
Travellers', or the I5achelors'. Hogg, who was not 
in sympathy with " movements," writes of them 
somewhat contemptuously, linding among them, 
198 



ESTRANGEMENT FROM HARRIET 

as he says, " two or three sentimental young 
butehers, an emiiu ntly ])hilos()|)lii<^aJ thinker, and 
several very unsophistical niedieal praetitioners 
or niediejil students," rcn)arkal)le for their 
" Inggledy-pi^^ledy ways " ; but that deseription 
is evidently an after-thouglit, — ap])Hea])le, per- 
hai)S, to some of tlie <H)m])n,ny, but by no means 
to ail of tli(-m. Certainly it eaimot have been 
applicable to the ladies of the party; for, if it 
had been, Hogg would not have accepted their 
hos])itality and corres])onded with them. 

Those of them whose names are worth remc;m- 
bering are Mrs. Boinville, her sister Mrs. Newton, 
and her daughter Cornelia Turner, — the others 
form merely the chorus of the ])lay. Mrs. Boin- 
ville — whom we may call Madame de Boinville 
if we like — was tlie daughter of a wealthy West 
Indian i)lanter, and h;id made a (iretna Green 
marriage with a fascinating French emigre : an 
important hnign' who IkuI sluircd with Lafayette 
the honour of guarding Marie-Antoinette's 
carriage on that day, in October 1789, when 
the women of Paris marched to Versailles to 
fetch the royal family. She was to live to see 
her son an important Protestant pastor, and 
to disapprove of Shelley, who, how(;ver, never 
disapproved of her, but wrote, as late as 1819, 
that " nothing earthly ever appeared to me 
more perfect than her chanieter and manners." 
Some biographers have boldly dc'clarcd that, in 
1818, though she was fifty, Shelley was in love 
with her; but love is a word with many grades 

199 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

of meaning, and it suffices to suppose that 
he was in love with the atmosphere of charm, 
sympathy, intelhgenee and enthusiasm, which 
he breathed in her house. 

He had latterly, we must remember, had no 
one to talk to except Harriet, who did not under- 
stand, and Eliza, who did not try to imderstand ; 
and he had begun to discover that purple and 
fine linen were more to Harriet than either dead 
languages or living ideas. Now he had fallen 
among people to whom ideas were the most 
important things in the world, who had the 
Athenian enthusiasm for discussion, who did 
not move in the realms of thought like school- 
girls learning lessons, but took their exercise 
there for their enjoyment; people, too, whom 
thought had not saddened, but who rejoiced 
in their youth as the young should. 

It was an impossible society for Harriet — a 
society to which Harriet must have seemed 
an impossible person. She must have felt as 
much out of her element in it as one would 
imagine the average commercial traveller to 
feel if one could picture him missing his way to 
the commercial room and taking his place, in 
error, at a Rayal Academy banquet. As Shelley 
obtained his introduction to it about the 
time of the birth of his daughter lanthe, his 
wife's health may have been his excuse for 
generally leaving her at home. It is, at any 
rate, clear that his friends were only her 
acquaintances; and it is not less clear that 
200 



A SECOND VISIT TO IRELAND 

he found keen pleasure in his new social oppor- 
tunities. 

There were dances, and visits — one visit, at 
all events — to Vauxhall Gardens. There was 
pleasant badinage of the light French sort, and 
the pleasant homage which beauty pays to genius 
when it presents itself in an attractive shape. 
It is to one of the new friends of those days that 
we owe the description of Shelley as " a moss- 
rose still dripping with the dew." We know 
from Hogg that, at this time, women — and more 
particularly young women — liked to sit up all 
night with Shelley, in order to hear him talk, 
so that he literally and truly did not go home 
till morning : that it was not an unknown thing 
for a young woman to sit up all night alone with 
him. 

It seems all to have happened, as the French 
phrase is, en tout Men et tout honneur; but still, 
in view of the fact that Shelley had a wife — 
and also a sister-in-law, zealous for his wife's 
dignity, the seeds of discord were rather obviously 
being sown. It generally is so when a husband's 
intellectual life expands while his wife's intel- 
lectual life is shrinking. It is sure to be so when 
the wife is not the only pretty woman in the 
case — even if she be the prettiest — and the 
husband is young enough to feel capable of a 
fresh sentimental start. The only question then 
is : What occasion will make the causes opera- 
tive ? 

They did not become operative immediately. 

201 



TIIK KOIM ANTIC IJKK OK SIIKM.KY 

A (ImsIi for I. lie Noil.li lirsl, for Krswick niid then 
for l^idinhiir^Ij wil.li Tliomiis Love IVjicock 
for l.niA clliii^ <*om|)nnioii, took pkicc iirsl.. Ho^j^ 
says lliai lluil was l\\v only oci-asiou on wliicli 
\w knew Iliirriot to make use of lur <'urriiigc'. 
l*<>n,<'o('k hrars AviiiKSS Ilia I Mure \v<m"(' no 
visible dissensioiis (hniiiir i.lie jonrney, though 
tlie Shrllfi/ Memorials st.a.t.(> Mie <'oul.ra.ry. It 
is l\a<'o<'k's Icsliinony tiiat Harriet's letters 
conlirm ; Muse iiulieatiiig — wlial. Peax'oek also 
asserts that the birth of lauthe served, for 
the linK^ bein<j^, as a. link between her ])a,r(>iits. 
"I wish," Harriet wrote, ''you <'(tul(l see luy 
sweet babe. She is so fair, with such blue eyes, 
that the more I see her, the more beautiful vShc 
looks." Au(l Shelley, as we know froui l*ea<'oek, 
took great pleasur(> in nursing the baby, and, 
in particular, in singing it to sleep, with a tune 
of his own i'omposition, whieh lulled the infant, 
though it exasperated otlur listeners. And 
Harriet wrote further; — 

'* A little uiore than two years has ]>assed since 
I uiade njy lirsl. visit here to be united to Mr. 
Shelley. To nie they havt> btcii the haj>piest 
and long(^st years of niy life. The rapid sueces- 
sion of events simr that time uia.k<> the two 
years apptar unusually long. I think the regular 
mellu)d of measuring tin\e is by the numbtr of 
diff(>n ut ideas whieh a ra])id succession of events 
naturally give rise to. When 1 look back to 
the time befoiv 1 was uiarricd 1 sccui Id foci 



A SECOND VISIT TO IHKI.ANI) 

I luivc lived u. Um*f lime. Tlin' my ji/jjc is but 
< ij^liLceii, yet I fi'cl ns if I \vn,s mucli older. . . . 
Mr. Slielley joins me niid VAW/.i in kind r<Mr;i,!<ls. . ." 

Perhnps the relVreiiee to "Mr. Slielley" — 
iiiste.'id of '' IVrty," us of old in(li<'.'il.<s n, new 
stiffness in the <'oujiij^n,i i-el;i.l,ious ; hut it m.iy 
merely rt nder Iljirrict's nsj)ini.ti«tns .i.fter \vh:it 
she coiieeived to be "" ^ood form," One dis(U)vers, 
;it imy rnt<', no otlur syni])toms of estnmge- 
mcrit unless it be in the .'illusions to linuuce: — 

" Mr. S. is <>f Ji^e, but no longer heir to the 
immense |)r()])erty of his sires. They jire tryin;^ 
to t:ik<" it nvvjiy, nnd will I .iiii afijiid suc(*eed, ns 
it Jip|)eJirs there is :i. IImw in the (hjivvin/^ U|) of tlu; 
settlcuK lit, by whieh they ejin de])riv<' him of 
everythin*^. . . . They luive ])ut it into C-liuneeiy, 
though I fjUK'y it Villi ;iii(l will Ix U<-|)t an entire 
secret. . . . Our friends the Newtoiis are trying 
to do everythin«»' in their ])ower to serve tis; 
but our doom is deeidcd. Yon who know us 
muy well jud|,^' of our fe<lings. To have ail 
our ])l;ins S( I. aside in this matter is a miserable 
thing." 

It is not a. very eohcnrtt account of the linaneiai 
situation, but there sounds in it the bitter <!ry of 
a woman whose high linaruMal hopes have been 
blighted, through no fault of her own; and it 
seems true that the dash to the N(Mth was 
inspired by the necessity of avoiding creditors. 

•2()a 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

A scrap of a letter to an unknown correspondent 
shows Shelley once more in urgent need of 
ready money, begging that his bill for £80 may 
be honoured, as he is in danger of being driven 
out of his lodg.ngs. One can believe that Harriet 
was dis})leased and " said tilings." One has still 
lessdillieulty in beheving that KHza " said things." 

Apparently the diilieulties were cleared, either 
by tlie help of Medwin of Horsham or by the sale 
of post-obit bonds ; but the letters just quoted, 
from Harriet to Mrs. Nugent, are our very last 
tokens of harmony between husband and wife. 
They returned to London, and from London 
went to Bracknell, to be near the Boinvilles. 
Hogg, meeting Harriet in London, found her 
an altered woman — and alttred by no means 
for the better. She no longer studied, and 
Shelley no longer urged her to do so. Her 
invariable objective, when she went out, was 
the bonnet-shop. She insisted, to Hogg's great 
annoyance, u})()n taking him to the bonnet-shop 
with her. It bored him equaUy to watch her 
trying on the bonnets, and to hang about on 
the pavement waiting for her. So he lost sight 
of her, and for a time, and to some extent, lost 
sight of Shelley also. One gathers that Shelley 
was often at Bracknell while Harriet was in 
London, and vice versa. 

There is no record of the proceedings at Brack- 
nell — presumably there was nothing to record. 
The story that Shelley went punting in a 
washerwoman's tubs, and persevered until he 
204 



A SECOND VISIT TO IRKLANI) 

lind kiiocUod i\w boliorn out ol* every tub, 
is linidly worth reviving. We lind him, in s])ite 
of this rcercjilion, phni/^cd in tlie drspondcney 
to vvhieJi u well-known l< tier to Iloy;g bears 
witness : — 

" My friend, you ure ha])])ier thnii I. Vou 
have tlie pleasures as well jis llu- pains of sensi- 
bility, r have sunk into a premature old age 
of <\hji,ustion, which renders me dejul to every- 
thing bul, the unenviji.bic <'a.p;i,eiLy of indiiij^ing 
the vanity of hope, and ;i, terrible suseeptibility 
to objects of dis^usL and hatred. ... I am here 
like t,he insect tluit sporls in a, transient sun])eam, 
which the next <'loud shall obscure for ever. I 
am much <thanged from what I was." 

Then follows the inevitable reference to Eliza : — 

*' I certainly hate her with all my heart and 
soul. It is a sight which awakens an inexj)ress- 
ible sensation of disgust and horror, to see her 
<'a,r( ss niy ])oor litth^ lanthe, in whom T may 
hercjd'ter lind the (consolation of sympathy. I 
sometimes feel faint with the fatigue of cheeking 
the over-llowings of my unbounded abhorrence 
for this miserable wretch. Hut she is no more 
than a blind and loathsome worm that cannot 
see to sting." 

Rut the most signilieant sentence is this; the 
letter being, it is to be observed, written from 
Mrs. Uoinville's house at IJrackncll : — 

205 



THE ROMANTIC lAVK OF SHELLEY 

" 1 luivt^ sonu'l.iiius ror<jf<)tt('ii that I nni not an 
ininaic oT this (l(li<»litfiil house that a time will 
t'OHK' vvhii'li will east ine again into the boinullcss 
ocean of abhorred society." 

A time will come, that is to say, when Shelley 
will have to go hack to Harriet — and ])erhaps 
also to Eliza; and the i)rosi)ect chills and a.j)i)als 
him. 

That was the emotional situation into which 
he and Harriet had blundered; and their 
choice now lay between blundering out and 
muddling through. IJeing what they were, they 
were bound to be disa,}>])ointed with each other, 
— bound, thererore, to be unha})])y. Harriet, to 
give her her due, would have made a })leasing 
wife for a licensed victualler; but Shelley's ideal 
of womanhood differed from that of licensed 
victuallers, and could not be satisfied by a 
licensed victualK^r's daughter. There is nothing 
for the moralist to say (il' he would a\'oid plati- 
tude) exce})t that both the girl-wife and the boy- 
husband had begun the game of life too young, 
with loo little knowledge of the ruUs ; nor can one 
see that there was anything to be done except to 
sweep the pieces off the board and start afresh. 
The trouble was that, while Shelley was eager 
for the fresh start, Harriet was not. 

Not that she was any longer passionately in 
love with him. Tlure is no evidence of that, 
but nuich ( vidence to the contrary — notably the 
evidence of certain poems from Shelley's pen, 
200 



A SECOND VISIT TO lUELAND 

written in <'()in])ln.int of Iut nnuccnstoincd cold- 
ness. Thongli i\w ])oen>s })rove nothing us to tlic 
causes of tlie coldness, they may be taken as 
])r()ving the fact. Hut a woinjin's coldness to 
her hushijnd docs not necessarily imply a desire 
to «^et rid of him, and is compnlihle with velu'ment 
indi^nsition at the idea that he sliould wish to ^et 
rid of her. It })roved, as wc shall see, to be (]nite 
com})atible with i(, in Harriet's ease. She seems to 
have argued if one may express her feelinos in 
terms of reason that, if she* coidd no lonfjjer love 
Shelley herself, then lie must be content, to ^o 
unloved ; and there is no doubt whatever, as her 
letters prove, that she was very anj^ry with Mary 
Godwin for lovina" him. 



ii07 



CHAPTER XVIII 

SEPARATION FROM HARRIET AND ELOPEMENT WITH 
MARY GODWIN 

In the spring of 1814, Shelley saw a good deal 
of jNIary Godwin. Her father's linaneial affairs 
were then passing through one of their periodical 
crises; and Shelley was trying to help him to 
raise the money he wanted — ^no less a sum, it is 
said, than £3,000. It was not a matter, of course, 
merely of drawing a cheque. Before the money 
could be lent, it must be borrowed. Godwin is 
said to have suggested post-obit bonds, and there 
were, at any rate, elaborate negotiations with 
lawyers. Shelley was in town attending to the 
matter, while Harriet remained in the country. 
Attending to the matter meant calling con- 
stantly at Godwin's house. Calling at Godwin's 
house entailed many incidental meetings with the 
various members of Godwin's complicated family. 
It will be as well to enumerate them before going 
further. 

The eldest was Fanny — the natural daughter 
of the first Mrs. Godwin, whom we have already 
discovered in correspondence with Shelley. It has 
been said that she was in love with him ; but it is 
quite certain that he was not in love with her. 
208 



SEPARATION FROM HARRIET 

A plain girl, but amiuhic and sensible, is the ver- 
diet of those who knew ficr. Next we may notiee 
Jane and Cfiarles ('lairrnont — th(i ehildren of 
th(.* seeond Mrs. (lodwin by her first husband. 
Jane was both beautiful and enterprising; she 
and Charles were alike addieted to dashing, 
roniantie, unpra(;tieal eourses — wild and extra- 
vagant freaks of whi<;fi thc;y boasted as Clairrnont 
ehn,raeteristies. Willi;i,rr) (Godwin — the son of 
Godwin by his seeond wife — who had a career 
of no particular inten-st as a newspaper reporter, 
was a (;hild at this time, and does not concern 
us. There was als(j Mary — as b(;autiful as Jane 
and cievcrer — sixteen years of age. 

All the world knows Hogg's story of his visit 
with Sh(;lley to Godwin's shop and of Mary's 
sudden app(;aranc(; in the background : — 

" The door was partially and softly opened. 
A thrilling voice called ' Shelley ! ' A thrilling 
voice answered ' Mary ! ' And he dart(;d out of 
tFie room, like an arrow from the bow of tFie far- 
sliooting king. A very young female, fair and 
fair-haired, pale indeed, and with a piercing look, 
wearing a frock of tartan, an unusual dress in 
London at that time, had called him out of the 
room." . . . 

. . . " ' Who was that, pray ? ' I asked; ' a 
daughter ? ' 

" ' Yes.' 

" ' A daughter of William Godwin ? ' 

" ' The daughter of Godwin and Mary.' " 
o 209 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

All the world knows, again, how Shelley gave 
Mary a copy of Queen Mab, and how, under- 
neath the printed dedication to Harriet, he wrote 
the enigmatic words : " Count Slobendorf was 
about to marry a woman who, attracted solely 
by his fortune, proved her selfishness by deserting 
him in prison." What Mary wrote on the fly 
leaves at the end of the volume has also been 
printed. The most significant sentences are 
these : — 

" This book is sacred to me, and as no other 
creature shall ever look into it, I may write what 
I please. Yet what shall I write ? That I love 
the author beyond all powers of expression, and 
that I am parted from him. Dearest and only 
love, by that love we have promised to each 
other, although I may not be yours, I can never 
be another's." 

It must have been at about the time of that in- 
scription and of the hesitations which it chronicles, 
that Peacock called on Shelley and found him 
with tumbled hair, disordered dress, blood-shot 
eyes, and a bottle of laudanum beside him, saying, 
" I never part from this," and quoting from 
Sophocles : — 

" MarCs happiest lot is not to he : 

And when we tread life'^s thorny steep, 
Most blest are they who, earliest free, 
Descend to deatKs eternal sleep.^^ 
210 



SEPARATION FROM HARRIET 

And he added, Peacock says : " Every one 
who knows me must know that the partner of 
my Hfe should be one who can feel poetry and 
understand philosophy. Harriet is a noble animal, 
but she can do neither." The date of that in- 
cident is uncertain ; but it must have been very 
near the end. On July 14, 1814, Shelley saw 
Harriet, and told her that he could not live with 
her any longer. A fortnight later, he had over- 
come Mary's hesitations, and persuaded her to 
leave her home and travel with him. 

The rights and wrongs of this have often been 
argued ; but they can never be determined. 
Different moralists judge them from different 
standpoints; and some of the facts which might 
influence their judgment are unascertainable. 
If the present writer joins in the discussion of 
a point so doubtful, his purpose is not so much 
to adjudicate as to put fresh statements in 
evidence and print new documents. 

Up to the present the only point of view fully 
and fairly presented has been that of Field Place. 
We get it alike in Professor Dowden's Life of 
Shelley, and in Mrs. Marshall's Life of Mrs. 
Shelley. The source, in both these cases, is 
The Shelley Memorials : a work nominally com- 
piled by Lady Shelley, but actually put together, 
if we may accept a statement in Trelawny's re- 
cently published letters, by Richard Garnett, of 
the British Museum. This is the statement : — 

" He (Shelley) was still extremely young. His 
02 211 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

anguish, his isolation, his difference from other 
men, his gifts of genius and eloquent enthusiasm 
made a deep impression on Godwin's daughter 
Mary, now a girl of sixteen, who had been accus- 
tomed to hear Shelley spoken of as something 
rare and strange. To her, as they met one event- 
ful day in St. Pancras' churchyard, by her 
mother's grave, Bysshe, in burning words, poured 
forth the tale of his wild past — ^liow he had suf- 
fered, how he had been misled ; and how, if sup- 
ported by her love, he hoped in future years to 
enrol his name with the wise and good who had 
done battle for their fellow-men, and been true 
through all adverse storms to the cause of 
humanity. Unhesitatingly she placed her hand 
in his, and linked her fortune with his own." 

Side by side with this should be read Mrs. 
Shelley's remarks in her edition of Shelley's 
Poems : — 

" This is not the time to relate the truth, and 
I should reject any colouring of the truth. No 
account of these events has ever been given at 
all approaching reality in their details, either as 
regards himself or others; nor shall I further 
allude to them than to remark that the errors of 
action committed by a man as noble and generous 
as Shelley was, as far as he only is concerned, may 
be fearlessly avowed by those who loved him, in 
the firm conviction that, were they judged impar- 
tially, his character would stand in brighter and 
fairer light than that of any contemporary." 
212 



SEPARATION FROM HARRIET 

There is obviously some veiled meaning here — 
a suggestion of extenuating circumstances which 
the writer declines, out of consideration for the 
feelings of others, to disclose. There could be 
only one extenuating circumstance of which the 
average reader of the plea would admit the force 
— misconduct on the part of Harriet. That that 
was, in fact, the extenuating circumstance which 
Mrs. Shelley meant to urge appears from a note 
appended by Jane Clairmont to a copy of some 
letters addressed by her mother to Lady Mount- 
cashell : — 

" He (Shelley) succeeded in persuading her 
(Mary) by declaring that Harriet did not really 
care for him; that she was in love with Major 
Ryan; and the child she would have was cer- 
tainly not his. This Mary told me herself, adding 
that this justified his having another attach- 
ment." 

That is precise. Harriet a guilty wife, and 
Major Ryan the accomplice of her guilt — such, 
when the dots are put on the i's, is the Field Place 
case. But Jane Clairmont, though she reported 
the charge, did not believe it. Hogg and Peacock 
do not seem even to have heard of it. "I feel it 
my duty," writes the latter, " to state my most 
decided conviction that her conduct as a wife 
was as pure, as true, as absolutely faultless, as 
that of any who for such conduct are held most 
in honour." And to Mrs. Boinville, and Mrs. 

213 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

Godwin, the very name of Major Ryan was 
unknown. 

That he was a real man is proved, indeed, by 
mention of his name alike in Mary Shelley's 
Diary and in Harriet Shelley's letters; and it is 
credible enough that Harriet had not been too 
careful of appearances. None of the allusions to 
Major Ryan, however, are such as to warrant 
an unfavourable inference ; and it cannot be said 
that the general tone of Harriet's letters is that 
of a woman who has preferred a lover to her 
husband. Those letters can be quoted now, 
though they could not when either Professor 
Dowden or Mrs. Marshall wrote. It will be seen 
that they gradually run up the scale of indig- 
nation; the first letter, dated August 25, being 
quite vague : — 

" Mr. Shelley is in France. You will be sur- 
prised to find I am not with him ; but times are 
altered, my dear friend, though I will not tell you 
what has passed, still do not think that you cloud 
my mind with your sorrows. Every age has its 
cares. God knows, I have mine. Dear lanthe 
is quite well. She is fourteen months old, and 
has six teeth. What I should have done without 
this dear babe and my sister I know not. This 
world is a scene of heavy trials to us all. I little 
expected ever to go through what I have. But 
time heals the deepest wounds, and for the sake 
of that sweet infant I hope to live many 
years." 
214 



SEPARATION FROM HARRIET 

Mrs. Nugent seems to have replied to that 
that she had always feared and suspected that 
Mr. Shelley, etc., etc., etc.; and Harriet's next 
letter assured Mrs. Nugent that her suspicions 
had indeed been warranted : — 

" Your fears are verified. Mr. Shelley has 
become profligate and sensual, owing entirely to 
Godwin's Political Justice. The very great evil 
that book has done is not to be told. The false 
doctrines there contained have poisoned many a 
young and virtuous mind. Mr. Shelley is living 
with Godwin's two daughters. . . . Mary was 
determined to seduce him. She is to blame." 

Then circumstantial details of Mary's culpa- 
bility are heaped up : — 

" She heated his imagination by talking of her 
mother, and going to her grave with him every 
day, till at last she told him she was dying in love 
for him, accompanied with the most violent ges- 
tures and vehement expostulations. He thought 
of me and my sufferings, and begged her to get 
the better of a passion as degrading to him as to 
herself. She then told him she would die — ^he 
had rejected her, and what appeared to her as 
the sublime st virtue was to him a crime. Why 
could we not all live together ? I as his sister, 
she as his wife ? He had the folly to believe this 
possible, and sent for me, then residing at Bath." 

That, though couched in the language of the 

215 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

penny dreadful, is specific. It is, as one would 
have expected, in flagrant contradiction with the 
Field Place version of the story. One's first 
impulse is to dismiss it as incredible and ridi- 
culous ; but there nevertheless is almost certainly 
a grain of truth in it. It explains, as Lady 
Shelley's narrative does not, the amazing letter 
which Shelley presently addressed to Harriet 
when he was with Mary at Troyes — ^the letter, 
derided as " a hete letter " by Matthew Arnold, 
in which he urged Harriet to " come to Switzer- 
land, where you will find at last one firm and 
constant friend, to whom your interests will 
always be dear, by whom your feelings will never 
wilfully be injured." It is, of course, more prob- 
able that Harriet trifled with the truth than that 
this proposal for a joint menage emanated from 
Mary; but it is quite clear that Harriet did not 
invent it ; and her indignation at it is intelligible. 
She continued : — 

" You may suppose how I felt at the disclosure. 
I was laid up for a fortnight after. I could do 
nothing for myself. He begged me to live. The 
doctors gave me over. They said 'twas impos- 
sible. I saw his despair, the agony of my beloved 
sister; and owing to the great strength of my 
constitution I lived ; and here I am, my dear 
friend, waiting to bring another infant into this 
woful world. Next month I shall be confined. 
He will not be near me. No, he cares not for me 
now. He never asks after me or sends me word 
216 



ELOPEMENT WITH MARY GODWIN 

how he is going on. In short, the man I once 
loved is dead. This is a vampire. His character 
is blasted for ever. Nothing can save him now. 
Oh, if you knew what I have suffered, your heart 
would drop blood for my miseries." 

After her confinement she resumes : — 

" lanthe has a brother. He is an eight months' 
child, and very like his unfortunate father, who 
is more depraved than ever. Oh, my dear friend, 
what a dreadful trial it is to bring children into 
the world so utterly helpless as he is, with no 
kind father's care to heal the wounded frame. 
After so much suffering, my labour was a very 
good one, from nine in the morning till nine at 
night. He is a very fine, healthy child for the 
time. I have seen his father ; he came to see me 
as soon as he knew of the event; but as to his 
tenderness to me, none remains. He said he was 
glad it was a boy, because he would make money 
cheaper. Money now, not philosophy, is the 
grand spring of his actions. Indeed, the pure and 
enlightened philosophy he once delighted in has 
flown. He is no longer that pure and good being 
he once was, nor can he ever retrieve himself." 

There is more ; but that may suffice. Harriet's 
defence, it will have been observed, is that 
offensive defence which military tacticians re- 
commend. She had not been educated to pick 
her words, or to endure injustice with com- 

217 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

posure. There is no reason to assume that she 
was careful to tell the exact truth when her 
case could be made to look stronger by a little 
divergence from it. Perhaps women with griev- 
ances seldom are. Harriet's wild assertions, in 
short, inspire as little confidence as Mary's in- 
sidious hints; and one has to end as one began 
by admitting that the rights and wrongs of the 
case are too confused to be unravelled. At 
least, however, it will be possible to show that 
Harriet's picture of Shelley allowing money to 
become " the grand spring of his actions " is 
misleading ; and to that end we may call a fresh 
witness and print an unpublished document. 
Let Charles Clairmont speak. 



218 



CHAPTER XIX 

CHARLES CLAIRMONT ON THE SEPARATION 

Charles Clairmont, already introduced as 
the son of the second Mrs. Godwin and her first 
husband, was a bright, though rather unpractical, 
youth, who had received a good education at the 
Charterhouse : not the sort of education that was 
likely to suggest an eccentric or unconventional 
attitude towards sexual and social problems. By 
way of a good, and not at all unconventional, 
start in life, he proposed to set up in business 
as a distiller. He hoped to be financed in his 
distillery by Francis Place, the well-known tailor- 
reformer; and he was afraid that Francis Place 
might be prejudiced against him by the news of 
Mary Godwin's elopement with a married man. 
So he wrote Francis Place a long letter, which 
may be read in the Manuscript Room at the 
British Museum, enlarging upon the rosy pros- 
pects of the distilling industry, and, at the same 
time, justifying Shelley's separation from his 
wife : — 

" Here," he wrote, "is a young man of the 
greatest refinement and learning, and the most 
uncommon talent, by a puerile inexperience 
thoughtlessly married to a pretty, trifling girl of 

219 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

the most slender capacity, whose only pleasures 
and occupations are balls, theatres, and such 
frivolous amusements." 

Perhaps that was what Fanny Godwin meant 
when she spoke of Harriet as "a fine lady " ; 
but, of course, the Charterhouse boy was not to 
be dazzled so easily as the homely girl. He 
referred to the circumstances of Shelley's first 
acquaintance with Harriet, and continued : — 

" He never had for her any strong attachment ; 
he thought her certainly a pretty woman, and was 
married to her when quite a boy, under circum- 
stances so very peculiar as could never have 
happened to any one but of so very strange a 
turn of mind as himself. Her love towards him 
was precisely of the same cold nature; this she 
most fully proved at the time of their separation. 
Her love for Shelley was absolutely none ! So 
long as he was the minister of her pleasures and 
her respectability, she pretended a sympathy 
with his principles and an admiration of his 
character; but so soon as her interest became 
unconnected with his, she became his secret 
enemy, and the enemy of all his friends." 

She became the enemy even of Godwin, though 
Godwin wrote to her, and called on her, and 
went out of his way to assure her that he 
disapproved of Shelley's proceedings. More- 
over, in money matters she had behaved most 
reprehensibly : — 
220 



CLAIRMONT ON THE SEPARATION 

*' She associated (I do not mean what the 
world calls criminally) with an Irish adventurer, 
whom she commissioned to take all possible 
advantage of Shelley. She knew his embar- 
rassed circumstances at the time, and yet glutted 
her revenge by running up the most extravagant 
and needless bills against him, amongst trades- 
men where she knew she could obtain credit. 
In short, it was only her impotence to injure that 
rendered her innocent of the most wide-spreading, 
blasting mischief." 

Charles Clairmont, that is to say, acquits 
Harriet of the graver charges involving Major 
Ryan, but also contradicts, in a very circum- 
stantial manner, her assertions regarding Shelley's 
grasping greed. " I would not require of her," 
he continues, " that she should become a crouch- 
ing, puling, begging suppliant ; she has certainly 
every right to feel her pride injured ; yet still I 
cannot think that a woman who sincerely loved 
could descend to the low revenge of abuse and 
scurrility." And then follows a contrast between 
Harriet's and Mary's qualities, and something of 
the nature of a philosophical disquisition : — 

" But now, even suppose Mrs. Shelley's passion 
for her husband had been as intense as that which 
Shelley felt for my sister ; still I cannot see that 
this would have been sufficient to entitle her to 
the preference when it was a question with whom 
Shelley should associate and domesticate for life. 

221 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

A certain portion of unhappiness necessarily falls 
to her whose love is unreturned ; would cohabit- 
ation have remedied this evil ? Shelley felt he 
could not esteem her ; would a generous hypocrisy 
have produced the effect of passion ? and, if it 
could, how would the wretched victim of such a 
melancholy farce, a man of sensibility and virtue, 
have deserved this hopeless solitude of the heart ? 
Because he is exquisitely framed to perceive and 
adore true excellence, must he be everlastingly 
chained to dulness and sickening folly ? And 
who is she for whom his happiness and (so far as 
depends on his life and reason) his usefulness is 
bartered ? She is totally unlike his companion. 
She delights in frivolous amusements, and de- 
spises from her heart all literature or learned 
employments. Her fondness for her husband 
induces her to adopt principles and approve con- 
duct which she has neither the understanding 
nor the courage to prefer for their intrinsic 
worthiness. Their intercourse must be full of 
irritating discomfiture. Their natures are dis- 
tinguished by antipathies which no despotism 
but that of marriage could ever attempt to 
coalesce. I am persuaded that he who leaves 
such a woman for another in every respect more 
suited to his intellectual nature, acts neither 
selfishly nor sensually. If it be true that a person 
is justified in terminating a connection thus 
unsatisfactory when the other party has feel- 
ings in some degree inimical to the proceeding, 
surely the justice is much more evident when the 
222 



CLAIRMONT ON THE SEPARATION 

reluctance to the separation clearly arises out 
of the most vicious and ignoble motives that can 
disgrace the human heart. 

" What love can the person who enjoys frivolity 
and parade bear to the solitary student ? Love 
is produced by a real or supposed sympathy of 
tastes and dispositions. Subtract these causes : 
what remains but avarice or sensuality ? Perhaps 
you may think my sentiments too wild and un- 
digested for a maturer age ; yet, if so, I hope you 
will agree with them in their bulk and main 
tenor. I believe you to be a thoroughly un- 
prejudiced man, and I think I must have been 
wrong in supposing you would allow your judg- 
ment to be shackled on this subject. This long 
account is no doubt troublesome and tedious to 
you, yet I am afraid it was necessary." 

Necessary, that is to say, for the purpose of 
persuading Francis Place to finance the writer in 
the distilling trade — ^yet failing to serve its pur- 
pose, for Francis Place's reply was " in the nega- 
tive." He would be reluctant, he said, to invest 
money in a distillery, even for his own advantage ; 
still less did he care to do so for the advantage 
of another. Nor did he wish, he added, passing 
to another branch of the subject, to " take the 
chance of being involved in any transactions be- 
tween you and Shelley " : a wise refusal, doubt- 
less, though expressed in the needlessly unpleasant 
language of a needlessly unpleasant man. 

That, however, is a side issue, and irrelevant. 

223 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

One gives the letter as the deposition of a witness 
who, if not impartial, was at any rate behind the 
scenes, and watched the proceedings from closer 
quarters than either Hogg or Peacock : a witness, 
too, who had learnt what a public school educa- 
tion teaches of propriety and morals. For Charles 
Clairmont, as for Hogg, Harriet was a barmaid- 
enly maiden who had " caught " the heir to a 
baronetcy and great estates. He had no sym- 
pathy with such ; and, indeed, it is difficult, even 
with all the precepts of all the churches before 
one, to blame the men who tire of barmaidenly 
maidens and, tiring of them, leave them. Even 
a bishop, one supposes, would not easily wax 
enthusiastic over the spectacle of a sublime poet 
enduring a superannuated barmaid in the spirit 
in which the saint submits to his hair shirt. 

It is not true, at any rate, that Shelley left 
Harriet alone in a lonely world — as calumniators 
have said that he did — with only fourteen shillings 
in her pocket. She was far richer, when they 
parted, than he was, having liberty to draw on 
him, as long as there was a balance to his credit, 
and having also a father who was willing to 
receive her, and could perfectly well continue 
his allowance to her of £200 a year. She went 
to his house, and might have remained in it but 
for circumstances of which it is enough to say, 
for the moment, that they were well within her 
own control. We will leave her, and follow 
Shelley. 

Whether Shelley had persuaded Mary, or Mary 
224 



CLAIRMONT ON THE SEPARATION 

(as Harriet said) had persuaded him, they were 
off together to the Continent, posting with four 
horses, to be sure of eluding pursuit. No one 
was in their confidence except Jane Clairmont; 
and Jane went with them, though why they took 
her with them no man knows. The suggested 
explanation that they thought her knowledge of 
French might be useful to them does not inspire 
confidence. The view that Shelley was (already) 
in love with Jane as well as Mary is equally un- 
convincing. Perhaps the clue to the mystery 
lies in Mary's sense of the impropriety of her pro- 
ceedings. One can (without too great effort) 
picture her fancying that the impropriety would 
be halved if Jane would share it; while Shelley 
may have humoured the belief from the fear lest 
her courage should break down if he did not. 

Be that as it may, however, the three fugitives 
got into their chaise at the corner of Hatton 
Garden, and galloped off along the Dover road; 
and Mrs. Godwin, missing her daughter and step- 
daughter, and guessing what had become of 
them, got into another chaise and galloped in 
their train. She was not far behind them; but 
they got to Calais first, after a stormy passage, 
and Shelley said : " Mary, look ; the sun rises 
over France." 



225 



CHAPTER XX 

SHELLKV, MARY AND JANE Cl.AIIlMONT IN FRANCE AND 
SWirZKRLANI) DARK HOHRS IN DINCJY LONDON 
l,()D(;iN(iS DEATH OK SIR RVSSIIK SHELLEY AND 
IMI'ROVEMEN'I" IN SHELLEY'S CIRCUMSTANCES. 

Mrs. Godwin overtook the i'ugitivos ut Calais, 
but did not (•a})turc tlu ni. Slic j'oimd Jane as 
defiant as Mary ; slie could only scold and depart. 

Perhaps .Jane had been unhappy at home ; 
perhaps only dull. She was, at any rate, the sort 
of girl who describes hersell" as " a girl of spirit," 
and hankers after the adventures for which the 
conmion round affords no scope. She surpassed 
Mary in enterprise as nuich as Mary surpassed 
her in intellect, and took life in the spirit of a 
girl who has been brought up on boys' books and 
sighs for a boy's liberty of action. Her character 
attracts and repels alternately : attracts by its 
recklessness of revolt, but re})els through a certain 
lack of tenderness. That, intellect apart, was the 
main difference between Jane and Mary. 

Mary, though needing help to screw lier courage 
to the stick ing-point, could count the world well 
lost for love. Jane, being bolder, could count the 
world well lost for excitement — for a part in a 
thrilling drama which would give her the centre of 
the stage. That was how, as their lives diverged, 
she came to despise INIary as a slave, ready to 
226 



MARY AND JANE CLAIRMONT 

abase herself in the hope that the hght of Mrs. 
Grundy's countenance might once more sliine on 
her. That was wJiy her oavu Hie resolved itself 
into a series of frasqucs for vvhi(;li slie had to pay 
the price. And this was her iirst jrasque. Shc^ 
was out for adventure in the holiday spirit, and 
in the scorn of consequence, just as Shelley had 
been when he ran away with Harriet, and Hogg 
when he hurried to join them on their honeymoon. 

But so, for that matter, were they all. In 
each of the three lives the adventure was to mark 
an epoch. All three of them had taken the first 
step on a road the end of which they did not 
know, but from which there could be no turning 
back to walk in the old paths as before. Shelley 
had shouldered a far heavier responsibility in 
abducting the woman whom he loved than in 
marrying the woman to whom he was indif- 
ferent. Mary, in crossing the channel, had also 
crossed that Rubicon which the careful women 
who remain on the near side of it forbid any 
female traveller to recross. Jane had phiced her- 
self under inlluences by which her whole life — 
and she was to live to be eighty — would be de- 
flected. Yet they all rushed off, without either 
money in their ])ockets or the certainty ol" o])tajn- 
ing any, with what looks like the irres})onsibility 
of school children breaking bounds. 

It would be too long a business to follo^v them 

through all the stages of their journey. The 

narrative is contained in the History of a Six 

Weeks' Tour, published in 1817, and based on 

p 2 227 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

the Diary which Shelley and Mary jointly kept. 
Professor Dowden supplements it with some ex- 
tracts from Jane's Diary. The route was from 
Paris, via Neuchatel, to the Lake of Lucerne, 
and home by way of the Reuss, the Rhine, and 
Rotterdam. The story is fascinating; but the 
secret of its fascination lies less in the adventures 
than in the temper of the adventurers. 

Adventures, mdeed, they had none worth 
speaking of, though they took a certain risk by 
crossing France on foot, at a time when the 
country was infested with disbanded soldiers, and 
the conduct of Cossacks had created a prejudice 
against foreigners. But they were young and 
snapped their fingers at care, as long as they 
could pay their way, convinced, if one may judge 
from their behaviour, that it was the business of 
Providence to provide, and that manna would 
fall if they clamoured for it. 

They did clamour for it, and for a while it 
fell. For the first supply, indeed, Shelley's 
watch and chain had to be sacrificed — the pro- 
ceeds of the sacrifice being exactly £6 12s. ; 
but then he found bankers to honour his sig- 
nature. A Parisian banker dealt out £60. A 
Neuchatel banker handed over a heavy bag 
packed with gold and silver coins. Wliether they 
were transmitting Shelley his own money or 
lending him some of theirs is not clear; but it 
is certain that he suddenly woke up to the fact 
that he had not enough to go on with and must 
not expect any more. With what celerity he 
228 



MARY AND JANK CLAIIIMONT 

(lu'ii <lKi,n/jf('(l liis ])Ijins inny best bo sJiown by 
all nbbi'cviiiLcd cxIrac.L Injiii Uic Diary. 

The Jijikc of Lucerne wjis Ihe /^omI. The reader 
rollovvs (lie l.ravellers lliillier, expecting to hear 
of a long stay ; and this, if wc only transcribe the 
record of the nioveinents of the party, is what 
he reads : - 

" Tuesday, Auf^usi, '23 : — Arrive at Lucerne 
al)oiit ten. After breakfast we hire a boat to 
take us down the lake. . . . We sloop at Hrunnen. 

'' Wi'dneaddy, August 'J4 : -We consult on our 
situation. Wo cannot procure a house; we are 
in despair. ... At last we find a lodging in an 
ugly house they call the Chateau for one; louis a 
month, which we take; it consists of two rooms. 

'' Thursday^ August 25 : — We pack up our 
things and take y)ossession of our house, wliich 
we have engaged for six months. 

''Friday, Auffusl '2(» : Determine at last to 
return to England ; only wait to set off till the 
washerwoman ])rings home our linen. . . . 'J'he 
linen is not dry; we are compelled to wait until 
to-morrow. We engage a bojit to tak<* us to 
Lueerne at six the following morning. 

" Snlurdny, August 27 : - We depart at seven. 
We eonjoetun^ the astonishment of the good 
people at Hrunnen." 

Their astonishment must indeed have })oen 
great; for tVie age of the leisurely grand tour 
was hardly over. Kven Jane seems to have 

229 



TIIK HOIMANTU^ MFK OF SIIKM.KV 

Wcw :\ lilllc MSlonislud :il \\\c sikUIcuucss oT tljc 
roniinMiul l»> p.-uk. This is liow sl\c iiolcs \\\v 
iH'rwrw Wi'V ; — 

'' (nl ii|) .mI liv<\ niisllc. loil. Mild Irouhlo; 
iiu>sl Iniigluiblc lo (liink ol" our j^oiii^ l.o l^iiisjjl.'uui 
l\\v S(H'«m(l (lay nl'lcr \v<> rnlcn-d i\. new house for 
six nionllis; nil htrjuisi^ I.Ik' sl.ovt* dou'l. suit. 
As we Irl'l. l)ov( r jind liUjijljuid's whili^ cliffs wen* 
rctiriiif*'. I snid lo u>ys<'ir. ' I shall mvrr sec 
Muse more.' juid U(»\v I .miu jjoiujjj lo l''n^lMi\d 
ni^aiu dear lOiii'laud. Afhr ha\iuj;' (ravelled 
and viewed Ihe follies of olher ualit)us. uiy own 
counlry apjx^ars Ihe niosl reasonable and the 
mosi enliijhltued." 

Truly il is aina/.iu}^; and whal is still more 
ania/,in!.f is Ihal Slulley had. only a few days 
h< Ion, w rill en lo llarrit^t. inviliuiij lur lo joiu 
llu" |>arl\. Il(> lioped. he wr«»le. ''soon \o have 
the pleasure of «'oMuuuuieal inij; lo you in p<>rsou, 
and of wtMeonunsjf you to some sweit retreat I 
will proeun^ for you anuino' the uiounlaiiis:" 
and he <"n joined Harriet to l>rini»' with h<-r certain 
leji'al doeunieids. 'I'hai <*(M't.aiidy looks as if \\r 
had nally ( \pt>eled lur to eonie : and wluit. 
woukl hav(> happened to \\vv if slu^ had eoni(* is 
an iideM'est iui); uwdtir t)f eonjceture. ShelU y. at. 
any rate, started for honie without, wnitinjij for 
h(r .answer te) his letter: and one* is rtnlneed to 
w«niderin},v wlu t.her \\v had fe>ri»e)t leMi t.hat he had 
writte n it. 
'21M) 



MAKY AND .lANK CLAIUMONT 

Very likely lie ii.'ul ; lor liis jiclivc miii<l 
was ranging over so wide an area i.lial. h<* may 
(rasily linv*' lost (nick ol' soin<> ol' ils iiiovc- 
mciils. He jiikI Miiiy jirid Jjific w< it i\n ordimiiy 
lourisl.s, (iigagcd in onliiiniy si^lil. seeing. 'I^lxy 
were lujirly ulways rc-uliii^; jiikI wlicii. llH-y 
vv<T(' nol, rcjuiiii/^', I.Ik V vv< i<" wiilifig. VVr liav<' 
r('<M)i'(ls ol" liicii' njMJin/j /\rnfi Lear uwd /is 
Yoii ///At //, Jind Mary, a Ficlvrn, by Mary 
VVollsloiK ciJiH., iiiid HyioiTs l.il.csl. I'ocnis, xiui 
I, lie d('Scri|)l.iou ol' l\\v siege ol' .lenisah-ni in 
T.'M'iliis. Shelley luid no soon* r rend l\\v lasl> 
n;i.m< (I iiarnitive (.li.iri lie d( <"!(!< d lo l»iis<- n novel 
on il.. lie lind no Hoonei* <'oneeiv<'d Mm* i<l<'n. I.linii 
li<* |)ro<'e<Mled l,o (li<'t,}il.e l.lie novel lo Mary. She 
wrote I'rom his dietiition during the two days' 
sojourn .d. MninFien, in the interval betweeli 
packing mikI unpacking, and also in the inns on 
the way home. In the sennly leisure vvhi<*h still 
i'em;iine<l she I ried to write n nov<l ol' her own. 

And so l>a<'k to l^'ingl.i.nd, dropping literature, 
n,t intervals, to ligld, the h.ittic ol" life in un mi- 
lamiliar tongue with innkee|)ers nnd otiicr ex- 
tortioners; lighting it in such ;i wuy ns just to 
hold their own enduring disc<nnfort niid sen- 
sickness, yet resisting sen-sickness sudicieidJy to 
" dispid.e with one man :d)out IIk- skive tr.ide " 
— landing, at Inst, at (iraves( iid, without ev<n 
a cab-fare in th( ir j)ockets, ohiigid to <iriv<- I'rom 
pk'ice to ])In('e until they <'ould f)orrow the fare, 
nnd to engnge lodgings without niiy <'ertainty as 
to where tlw rent would come from. 

281 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

It was their darkest hour; and nearly four 
months were to elapse before the dawn. The 
trials of that time mark the end of Shelley's boy- 
hood and Mary's girlhood. They found out then 
what life was really like — what were the rules of 
the game, what penalties enforced those rules. 
Even Jane had to face disagreeable realities, and 
listen to home truths couched in homely language, 
about " birds of a feather," and the necessity of 
lying on the bed which one had made. It was 
pointed out to Jane that she was no longer a fit 
companion for Fanny, who was destined to be a 
teacher in a select Seminary for Young Ladies, 
kept by her aunts at Dublin. It would be so bad 
for Fanny. If the parents of the pupils came to 
know. . . . 

But Jane was not much troubled. On the 
whole, she was pleased with her new way of life. 
If her position lacked stability, she could at least 
reflect that Godwin's house also had no appear- 
ance of being founded on a rock. There, too, the 
atmosphere had been one of the acceptance and 
discounting of bills, and of borrowing in a 
hurry from Peter to pay Paul, who had put in 
the bailiffs. It had not been amusing; for 
Godwin, whatever his value as a philosopher, 
was a dull dog who retained the manners, 
though he had shed the prejudices, of the Non- 
conformist Ministry. A Nonconformist Minister 
in trouble about his bank accoimt is not a cheerful 
spectacle ; and one can picture Jane deciding 
that, if she had to choose, she would rather be 
282, 



DARK HOURS IN LONDON LODGINGS 

renounced by Godwin than obliged to see too 
much of him. 

So she fastened herself on Shelley and Mary, 
and lived with them in lodgings. Possibly she 
saw more of Shelley than was well for her 
peace of mind — certainly she saw more of him 
than was well for Mary's peace of mind. The 
time was to come when Mary would speak of 
Jane as " the bane of my life." The day was 
also to come when Jane, with the Byron story 
(of which more in its place) behind her, was to 
speak of Shelley as the only man she had ever 
loved. The foundations for those feelings may 
well have been laid during those days of Bohemian 
distress, and that may be one of the reasons why 
Jane did not find them distressing. Shelley, at 
any rate, was never to be as anxious to get rid of 
her as he had been to get rid of Miss Kitchener, 
though Mary was to refer to one of her depar- 
tures as " our regeneration." That was not yet, 
however; and in the meantime, though the dis- 
tresses were severe, the elasticity of youth 
triumphed over them. 

The story is in Mary's Diary, which is too long 
to be reproduced. It is a curious and rather 
tangled story of spirits too effervescent to be re- 
pressed — a literary Mark Tapleyism maintained 
in the midst of a hand-to-mouth existence — a 
hold on life and its varied interests kept up 
through study at times when financial embarrass- 
ments came very near to entailing actual hunger. 
The central figure of the picture is Shelley — a la 

233 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

recherche de la piece de cent sous. The chase takes 
him to Insurance Offices, and Banks, and the 
offices of lawyers and money-lenders, and the 
houses and lodgings of his friends. It takes him 
even, from time to time, to Harriet. 

Not the least amazing fact in the amazing 
story is that, when Shelley brought Mary home 
from the Continent, Harriet paid the cabman. 
The discovery of it certainly follows strangely 
upon the perusal of Shelley's proposal to procure 
Harriet " a sweet retreat among the mountains." 
The explanation lies in the use which Harriet had 
made of Shelley's instructions to his bankers to 
honour her signature. He had believed — perhaps 
it was a part of his general belief in the perfecti- 
bility of human nature — that she would only 
draw sufficient for her modest needs. She had, 
in fact, drawn the very last penny ; and, as cab- 
men do not give credit Avithout public and 
sonorous remonstrance, Shelley had to knock at 
Harriet's door, leaving Mary and Jane in the 
cab while he called on her. 

He stayed two hours, and received £20. He 
bought a suit of clothes — one infers from the 
wording of the Diary that they were ready-made 
clothes — and then resumed the quest on which 
we have to picture him engaged for a period of 
about four months. Godwin has to be pictured, 
at the same time, refusing to communicate with 
Shelley except through his solicitor, yet watching 
the chance of borrowing from him, also through 
the medium of his solicitor. Finally we have to 
234 



DARK HOURS IN LONDON LODGINGS 

picture creditors — principally tradespeople with 
whom Harriet had pledged his credit — ^hampering 
his quest ; pursuing him while he pursues the 
coins — setting the bailiffs after him, and trying 
to lodge him in a sponging-house. 

Things happened, in consequence, pretty much 
as in the second act of a farcical comedy: a very 
farcical comedy, played by very serious young 
people, but played with more sentiment than is 
usual in farce. The law being what Mr. Bumble 
called it, they took advantage of its limitations. 
Shelley disappeared from his lodgings, and then 
reappeared in them, with something of the mys- 
terious suddenness of a comedian making exits 
and entrances through trap-doors. He and Mary 
had stolen meetings in the Alsatias in which 
writs did not run, and snatched kisses at hours 
at which arrests could not be made. At other 
times they wrote each other furtive love letters 
like schoolboys and schoolgirls evading the watch- 
ful eyes of tutors and governesses. Charles Clair- 
mont supplemented Jane in the role of mes- 
senger, communicating with Fanny, who com- 
municated with the Godwins. Mrs. Godwin, dis- 
traught by conflicting sentiments of indignation 
and curiosity, peeped in surreptitiously on the 
party through the window, but tossed her head 
and turned away when any of them came out to 
speak to her. Altogether, it was a very queer 
game of cross purposes. 

One cannot follow all its vicissitudes — there 
are far too many of them. One reads, in the 

235 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

Diary, of frequent visits to the lawyers, and 
" nothing done " ; of the flight from bailiffs, and 
the need for bail ; of attempts to speak to Fanny, 
whom Jane chased unsuccessfully up the street; 
of negotiations with Harriet, who, at one moment, 
sends " a good-humoured letter," and is " very 
civil," but, at another, " sends her creditors 
here," and " threatens Shelley with her lawyer," 
One even reads of an occasion on which there 
was neither money nor food in the house, and it 
was necessary to appeal to Peacock for " eat- 
ables." Being nearly as poor as the applicants. 
Peacock could only provide cakes; but, fortu- 
nately, they were all young enough to be very 
fond of cakes. 

This at a time when Mary was expecting the 
birth of her first child. The circumstances truly 
were sad ones to surround such expectations. 
Yet youth, as has been said, triumphed, and re- 
fused to be oppressed. Shelley and Mary only 
thought of their troubles at the hdurs when the 
troubles were actually upon them. They felt — 
they did not need to prove — that happiness was 
in the mind, and that externals, however em- 
barrassing, cannot destroy it. They walked with 
Peacock on Hampstead Heath, discussed " the 
possibility of converting and liberating two 
heiresses," and sailed paper boats on the ponds. 
They entertained Hogg, and were vexed with 
" his attachment to sporting," but amused by 
his mental confusion when the time came to talk 
about virtue. 
286 



DEATH OF SIR BYSSHE SHELLEY 

Above all, they studied. " Learn Greek all 
morning," is one of the notes in Mary's part of 
the Diary. It appears on the same date as the 
entry : " People want their money ; won't send 
up dinner, and we are all very hungry." Other 
similar entries are : " Read Greek grammar." 
..." Read a little of Petronius, a most detest- 
able book." . . . '^Suetonius is finished, and 
Shelley begins the Historia Augustana,''' . . . 
*' In the evening read Emilia Galotti.'' On the 
whole, there could be no better proof of the inno- 
cence of their minds — their intuitive perception 
of their right to live their lives as they chose, 
instead of sacrificing their inclinations to Society 
— than this eagerness to snatch quiet hours with 
the classics at the time when they were most 
harried by moral remonstrances and material 
cares. 

And so the time passed until, early in January, 
1815, Sir Bysshe Shelley died, and Sir Timothy 
Shelley presently came to terms, agreeing to pay 
his son's debts,^ and allow him £1,000 a year. 

^ His promise to help Godwin was treated as a debt, and 
duly fulfilled. 



237 



CHAPTER XXI 

THE DEATH OF HARRIET— THE CHANCERY SUIT 

Shelley's increased allowance was conditional 
upon his overcoming his reluctance to entail 
certain properties. His poverty, but not his will, 
consented. The demand for his post-obit bonds 
at this period was far from brisk; and he was 
practically compelled to tie his hands for the 
future in order to free them in the present, and 
obtain the wherewithal to live. 

There was no shirking of his pecuniary respon- 
sibilities to Harriet, nor any intentional unkind - 
ness to her. It was not he, but Mary, who spoke 
of Harriet as " nasty " and " selfish." A readi- 
ness to speak kindly of other women was not 
included among Mary's virtues — ^it seldom is in- 
cluded among the virtues of women whose posi- 
tion in society is equivocal. They feel that they 
must defend themselves with such weapons as 
they have ; and Mary, in this respect, was dis- 
tinctly feline. Shelley's affections were more 
widely dispersed, and his impulses more indis- 
criminately generous. His impulse now — on 
which he lost no time in acting — was to clear 
Harriet of debt and make her an allowance of 
£200 a year : also to continue to show an active 
interest in her welfare. 
238 



THE DEATH OF HARRIET 

Apparently both women misunderstood him, 
as wives and mistresses are apt to misunderstand 
the man on whom they both have claims. Mary 
probably feared, and Harriet certainly hoped, 
that the lover's passion would prove to be only 
a temporary aberration, and that conjugal affec- 
tion would emerge triumphant in the end. The 
mistress, that is to say, was not quite sure that 
she had won Shelley, and the wife was not quite 
sure that she had lost him; while Shelley him- 
self, desiring to do even-handed justice to both 
of them, failed to give full satisfaction to either. 
One imagines that a man in his position rarely 
can, however hard he tries. 

Harriet probably could not see that Mary was 
" any better " than herself. The daughter of a 
retired licensed victualler is not likely to con- 
sider herself socially inferior to the daughter of 
a bookseller in active service. Least of all can 
she be expected to take that view when the 
licensed victualler pays his way, whereas the 
bookseller is always on the look-out for a kind 
friend to back a bill. But that reasoning, whether 
sound or unsound, was irrelevant. Between 
Shelley and Harriet there was a gulf not merely 
of incompatibilities, but of incongruities. He 
had outgrown her ; her presence was a perpetual 
irritation to him. At the same time, he felt 
that she was not to blame for being what she 
was ; and he tried to make things as pleasant as 
he could for her without knowing exactly how 
to set about it. 

239 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

At her earnest entreaty, he left the children in 
her charge. Most likely — though there is a gap 
in the evidence here — it was Mary's wish as well 
as Harriet's that he should yield to that entreaty. 
He also continued to communicate with Harriet 
from time to time ; and the communications 
were not unfriendly. What hopes they inspired 
in her we can only guess. It certainly was not 
with the intention of inspiring hopes that they 
were made ; and any hopes which they did in- 
spire soon flickered out. Then there was silence, 
and then the news, from what source derived one 
does not know, that Harriet had disappeared 
from her home ; and the rest of the story is told 
in this paragraph which appeared in a corner of 
the Times on December 12, 1816 : — 

" On Tuesday a respectable female, far ad- 
vanced in pregnancy, was taken out of the 
Serpentine River and brought to her residence 
in Queen Street, Brompton, having been missing 
nearly six weeks. She had a valuable ring on 
her finger. A want of honour in her own con- 
duct is supposed to have led to this fatal cata- 
strophe, her husband being abroad." 

Harriet, that is to say, after abandoning hope, 
had asserted her right to live her own life as 
Shelley was living his; and she was not, like 
Shelley, one of the exceptional people who may 
do exceptional things with impunity. That is 
the comment which her conduct suggests; and 
240 



THE DEATH OF HARRIET 

there is no need to supplement it with plati- 
tudes. Living one's own life in preference to 
the life prescribed by custom and convention 
needs a certain courage ; and Harriet lacked 
that courage. There was no question of desti- 
tution, or even the fear of it; there can hardly 
be said to be any question of a new lover who 
had ceased to love — but only of a new protector 
who had ceased to protect. His protection can- 
not have amounted to very much if, as is said, he 
was a groom. But when he failed her, Harriet's 
nerve failed her too. She feared scandal as she 
might have feared the Devil, and ran along the 
line of least resistance, which led her to the 
Coroner's Court. 

Those are the facts, in so far as they can be 
ascertained. The only essential fact to be added 
is that Harriet's later conduct had estranged her 
father and her sister, and that Shelley considered 
them, and them only, accountable for her fate. 
"There is but one voice," he wrote, "in con- 
demnation of the detestable Westbrooks. If 
they should dare to bring it before Chancery, a 
scene of such fearful horror would be unfolded 
as would cover them with scorn and shame." 

On the other hand, of course, there were those 
who said that all the blame for what had hap- 
pened was his. Southey, in particular, said so 
in a correspondence which broke out between 
them in 1820; the immediate occasion of the 
exchange of letters being a review of The Revolt 
of Islam in the Quarterly which Shelley sus- 
Q 241 



THE ROINIANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

pected Southcy of having written. He described 
the author of it, whoever he might be, as "an 
unprincipled hirehng " who had so far forgotten 
himself as to " insult over the domestic calamities 
of a writer of the adverse party." Sou they 
disclaimed the authorship, but made severe re- 
marks about Shelley's speculative opinions and 
their practical consequences, and concluded by 
praying : " God in His infinite mercy bring you 
to this better mind." ^^^lereupon Shelley saluted 
Southey as " such a pure one as Jesus Christ 
found not in all Judaea to throw the first stone 
against the woman taken in adultery," and 
rejoined indignantly : — 

*• I take God to witness, if such a Being is now 
regarding both you and me, and I pledge myself, 
if we meet, as perhaps you expect, before Him 
after death, to repeat the same in His presence 
— that you accuse me wrongfully. I am inno- 
cent of ill, either done or intended ; the con- 
sequences you allude to flowed in no respect 
from me. If you were my friend, I could tell you 
a history that would make you open your eyes; 
but I shall certainly never make the public my 
familiar confidant." 

In response whereto, Southey launched his 
thunderbolt. He recalled the days of their friend- 
ship at Keswick, the speculative opinions which 
Shelley had then expressed, and his own interest 
in Shelley's welfare; and he proceeded to state 
242 



THE DEATH OF HARRIET 

Slielley's case as he saw it — " in no uncharit- 
able spirit," he said, " and with no unfriendly 
purpose " : — 

" You forsook your wife because you were 
tired of her, and had found another woman more 
suited to your taste. You could tell me a his- 
tory, you say, which would make me open my 
eyes; perhaps they are already open. It is a 
matter of public notoriety that your wife de- 
stroyed herself. Knowing in what manner she 
bore your desertion, I never attributed this to 
her sensibility on that score. I have heard it 
otherwise explained : I have heard that she fol- 
lowed your example as faithfully as your lessons, 
and that the catastrophe was produced by 
shame. Be this as it may, ask your own heart 
whether you have not been the whole, sole, and 
direct cause of her destruction. You corrupted 
her opinions; you robbed her of her moral and 
religious principles; you debauched her mind. 
But for you and your lessons, she might have 
gone through the world innocently and happily." 

The words are strong; but the argument, 
which, after all, is the main thing, is weak. The 
desertion of a wife by a husband whose depar- 
ture leaves his wife unaffected alike in her pocket 
and in her " sensibility " is hardly distinguish- 
able in thought from a separation by agreement 
for the mutual advantage of the parties. Cer- 
tainly it cannot be held to make the husband 
Q2 243 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

responsible for any follies which the wife may 
afterwards commit. There remains the allega- 
tion that the husband's anti-matrimonial argu- 
ments had undermined the wife's pious prin- 
ciples; but that charge breaks down under the 
weight of the facts. As we have seen, it was 
not Shelley who proposed to run away with 
Harriet, but Harriet who insisted upon running 
away with Shelley. He made her his wife, to 
the detriment of his worldly prospects, because 
he wished to do the right thing, in spite of her 
offer to live with him as his mistress. Before 
that evidence, Southey's indictment collapses. 

That Shelley's conscience pricked him is 
nevertheless certain. " It was a heavy blow to 
him, and he never forgot it. For a time it tore 
his being to pieces," is Leigh Hunt's testimony; 
and Peacock, who, unlike Leigh Hunt, was 
Harriet's friend, said much the same : " Harriet's 
untimely fate occasioned him deep agony of mind, 
which he felt the more because for a long time 
he kept the feeling to himself." Peacock also 
tells us of Shelley's determination to " take a 
great glass of ale every night," reporting him 
as adding : "I shall do it to deaden my feelings : 
for I see that those who drink ale have none." 
It was his great discovery that life is a more 
complicated matter than we know when we 
make our youthful plans for " arranging " it ; 
that it is easier to design a romance than to live 
it ; easier to set forces in motion than to control 
them; impossible always to avoid remorse even 
244 



THE CHANCERY SUIT 

for the least intended consequences of actions 
which seem, at the time, to be the most rational 
open to us. 

His pain was doubled by the judgment of Lord 
Eldon in the Court of Chancery, depriving him, 
at the instance of the Westbrooks, of the custody 
of his and Harriet's children. It is hard to say 
whether he lost liis case because he was badly 
represented, and had Sir Samuel Romilly against 
him, or whether he was bound to lose it at a time 
when the Christian religion was a part of the law 
of the land. He succeeded, at all events, in per- 
suading the Court that Mr. Westbrook and Eliza 
were improper guardians to appoint : the grand- 
father because the fragrance of licensed vic- 
tualling might be supposed still to cling to him; 
the aunt because it was by her that the run- 
away match had been contrived. Instead of 
them, Shelley's own nominees. Dr. and Mrs. 
Hume, of Han well, were appointed ; but their 
father was only to be allowed to see his children 
once a month, and then only in their guardians' 
presence. In his will, dated February 18, 1817, 
he bequeathed them £6,000 apiece : exactly the 
sum which he left to Mary's children. 

That, perhaps, is all that need be said on this 
very sad branch of the subject. Shelley's opinions 
as expressed in Queen Mob — though Queen Mab 
was only privately printed — and his conduct in 
living conjugally with Mary were jointly respon- 
sible for the judgment. The two things taken 
in conjunction proved, according to the Court, 

245 



THE ROMANTIC TJFE OF SHELLEY 

tluit SholUy ivcommcnded immoral conduct as 
" worthy of approbation." AVhcthcr they did 
prove it or not depends, of course, upon our 
definition of imniornhty : and that is a point 
upon whieli opinions differ even more widely 
now than in the reign of George IH. Lord 
Eldon's lights assuredly are not ours, but lie 
seems, according to his lights, to have done his 
conscientious best. 

Tliat said, we will hark back and resume oiu* 
story where we quitted it. 



246 



CHAPTEll XXII 

AT ClAFVON AND HIHllOl'CATi: MAilY'.S RELATIONS 
Willi JANE Cf>AJJlMON'J 

When he heard of his grandfather's death, 
ShelJey fmrried to Field Place. Not being 
allowed to enter the liouse, he sat on the door- 
step reading Milton while the will was being read 
in the dining-room. Mary being unfit to travel, 
Jane had eorne with hirn, not indeed as far as 
tlie door-step, but to a house in the neighbour- 
hood : a fact which may have had its bearings 
(HI his exclusion. Referred to Sir Timothy's 
solicitOT, he returned to London. 

The next few montfis werc^ passed in various 
London lodgings. Mary's first baby was bom — 
a seven months' child — and died after a few 
days' life ; but she herself made a fairly good 
recovery. Fanny's desire to see the baby proved 
stronger than her fear of Godwin ; she came to 
the Shelleys and spent the night with them. 
Mrs. Godwin once more satisfied her curiosity 
by peeping through the windows, and also de- 
spateiied Cliarles Clairmont with a bundle of 
baby linen. Charles, on his ])art, was very 
anxious to share Shelley's good fortune ; and 
Shelley raised no obje<;tion. His purse, when 
full, was always at the disposal of his friends; 

247 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

and Trelawny declared, after his death, that he 
himself and Hogg were the only two of his friends 
who had never taken advantage of his generosity ; 
whereas Peacock, Leigh Hunt, Charles Clairmont, 
Tom Medwin, and the others had all plundered 
him to the best of their ability. 

Hogg, at this time, became a constant visitor. 
*' Hogg comes in the evening " is, for many 
weeks, almost a daily entry in the Diary. Or 
else it is : " Hogg stays all day with us . . . " 
..." Hogg sleeps here." Hogg also read Gibbon 
to Mary ; Shelley evidently remaining convinced 
that his old suspicions of Hogg had been un- 
founded; and Hogg, on his part, evidently 
realizing that Mary was no barmaidenly maiden, 
and that the casual manner which he had 
adopted with Harriet must not be assumed with 
her. So she could net a purse for him without 
fear that he would misunderstand her motives; 
and for the rest, there was a great deal 
of reading, and a certain amount of sight- 
seeing. Shelley was absorbed in Seneca, while 
Mary wrestled with Ovid ; Hogg sometimes 
helping her in Shelley's absence. Beyond this, 
we read of visits to the British Museum and 
walks in Kensington Gardens. It is said that 
Shelley sailed a paper boat made of a £10 note 
on the Round Pond : a story which deserves to 
be true. 

Mary, however, while struggling with the 
classics, was also struggling with a personal 
problem : how best, and most speedily, to get 
248 



AT CLIFTON AND BISHOPGATE 

rid of Jane. If she had needed Jane's moral 
support at the time of the elopement, she was 
getting very tired of Jane's society now — the 
more tired of it, no doubt, because Shelley and 
Jane got on so well together. The reconciliation 
of the claims of friendship with the monopoly of 
love is always difficult when one is young; and 
Shelley, to the end of his life, never mastered it. 
His manners, in friendship, were apt to resemble 
those of a lover. It was first his instinct and 
afterwards his avowed policy to love all lovable 
women, looking to each to help him, in her special 
way, to self-development, self-realization, self- 
expression. Jane said as much to Trelawny, 
when they exchanged their recollections of Shelley 
in their old age ; and Trelawny replied brutally 
that all men were like that in the 'twenties. He 
certainly was so himself — and not only in the 
'twenties; but there is no reason why that re- 
flection should detain us. 

Mary, at any rate, did not see things quite as 
Shelley saw them. Possibly it was a disappoint- 
ment to her that Shelley's attitude towards Jane 
was not like his attitude towards Miss Hitchener ; 
certainly she was not pleased to see Shelley 
perpetually taking Jane for walks, teaching her 
Italian, and sitting up late with her. She thought 
that, if Jane could not, or would not, return to 
the Godwins, she had better seek a situation as 
a lady companion. She was bitterly disappointed 
that a Mrs. Knapp would not receive Jane, 
though Jane described Mrs. Knapp as " a for- 

249 



THE R0:MANT1C life of SHELLEY 

ward, impertinent, and siipcrfieial woman." We 
also, on Mareh 1 k eome upon this cry of pain : — 

" Shelley and I go upstairs and tallc of Clara's ^ 
going; the prospeet appears to me more dismal 
than ever; not the least hope. This is, indeed, 
hard to bear." 

Followed, about two months later, by this cry 
of joy :— 

" Clara goes ; Shelley walks with her. . . . 
I begin a new journal with our regeneration." 

Jane, in faet, had drawn a prize in a lottery, 
and had been despatehed to a solitary lodging at 
Lynmouth. One does not know whether the 
prize was large enough to pay for her trip ; but 
it is more probable that Shelley paid for it. It 
eannot actually be proved that she was hustled 
off to Devonshire because she had shown herself 
too fond of Shelley ; but there are striking indi- 
cations to that effect — and still more striking 
indications that she herself took that view of 
her exile, though it was a pleasant exile of which, 
at first at all events, she did not complain. 

Our first hint is in a letter which she wrote, 
immediately on her arrival at Lynmouth, to 
Fanny : — 

" After so much discontent, such violent 

^ Jane, at. this stage, assumed the more romantic niune 
of Chira. Afterwards she called herself Claire, and some- 
times Constantia. 

250 



AT CLIFTON AND BISHOPGATE 

scenes, suoh a turmoil of passion and hatred, you 
will hardly believe how enraptured I am with 
this dear little quiet spot. ... It is in solitude 
that the powers eoneentre round the soul, and 
teach it the calm determined path of virtue and 
wisdom." 

That indicates, as clearly as anything can, 
that there has been unpleasantness with Mary. 
It might also, if it stood alone, seem to indicate 
unpleasantness with Shelley ; but it does not 
stand alone. Our second hint is contained in 
one of Mary's letters to Shelley. She writes, on 
July 27, from Clifton, where Shelley has left 
her while he goes house-hunting in South Devon, 
begging him to make haste and return to her. 
This house-hunting, she complains, "is a very, 
very long job, too long for one love to undertake 
in the absence of the other " — especially as his 
and her birthdays are both close at hand. She 
is " quite sick of passing day after day in this 
hopeless way"; she would very much prefer "a 
delightful excursion to Tintem Abbey;" and 
then she asks a significant question : — 

" Pray, is Clare with you ? for I have inquired 
several times and no letters; but, seriously, it 
would not in the least surprise me, if you have 
written to her from London, and let her know 
that you are without me, that she should have 
taken some such freak." 

That establishes the fact of Mary's jealousy, 

251 



rilK ROMANTIC MFK OF SITKLLKV 

thtniijh it (Itn^s not pn>V(^ tiint ihvrc >vas any 
iwnson for it. Sholloy. iiuliid. stiins to have 
rtttniotiul nil tlu> ijirls in \hc (lOiiwin household — 
.Tnno wo U ss than Mary, antl Fanny no loss than 
Jano. Fanny was a girl who ijjuardid hor own 
sooivt; but Jauo was at littU^ pains to guard 
lid's : — 

" Tlavr yt>n nr\ or lovoth n\ndnn\o ? '' I asktHl. 

** A tit lioato blush suffust-d tho ohot^ks. antl 
this tinio sho niado no nply, gazinu; on tho 
ground. 

" ' ShoUoy ? ' T nun'numn!. 

*' ' \Vith all my hoart and stml.' sho ropliod, 
without moving hor oyos from tho ground." 

That is tho Oin\fossit>n of her old ago, roportod 
by Mr. \\'illian\ (irahani in his [aisI Links to//// 
Ih/ron, ShtUrii, (ind Krats. It has not boon iakt^n 
seriously. Fitlur tht^ lady's or tht^ intorx ii wtn*'s 
nuMuovy has boon oommonly assunioil to have 
boon at fault : but tin ro is a riinarkablo 
I'ontompi^rary oonlirniatit>n, whioh biographers 
havv^ t>vt>rK)okod. in i>no of Jane's letters to 
Byrc>n. 

>\ shall et>me to the story of Jane's relations 
with Hyvon ahut^st imnu tliatoly : but we may 
antieipato. IMrs. Marshall saw Jane's letters to 
l^yron when she was preparing hcv Li/r of Mrs. 
Sht'llri/. b\it was not allowed to print them. 
Tho only inforenee whioh she draws from them 
is that ,]i\nc was not very dee[)ly in love with 



AT r:fJFTO\ AM) P>JSIfOI*(;ATK 

iJyron ; but, then: wan arjoUjf:r i/if' f ri<;f. wfiK-.fi 
«hc. rrii^Fit fiavr: drawn if hIjo ha(J n ac J tii^ rn tnon: 
carefully. Shelley's name appftarn in them several 
times. Jane rpiotes Shell':y fr^r, as it wr;re, a 
t<:stimonial to lier efiarms. If*-. h;j,H tr)lrj h*;r, she 
says, tfjat she. was " the most engagirj;^ of human 
creatures; " and slie continues J — 

" I do not rrf>ort this throu;.^}) vanity; J krir^w 
SfieJif y is t<jo f(>nd (A me not to be indujj^f-nt, 
yf:t I tfiink it is an fionourable testimony to that 
part f>f rny ejjaraetf.r you fiave accused, that 
the man wfiorn f liavr- loved, and for wfiom I 
fiave suffered much, should report tfjis of mf;." 

If this does not me;j.n that love, for Sficllcy — 
not carefully hidden like Fanny's love, for fiirn — 
was the <;ause of Jane's preei[>itat/', banisliment 
to Lynmrjuth, then one does not know what it 
means. The proof seems clear that Jane was in 
love withi Shellf;y, tfiou^h not that Sf)eilf;y was 
in love witfi Jane. His view of love, indeed, so 
far as one can fiefine it, wa-auh U> have bf;en that 
it was an infinite emotion, and t})at the ifuXa- 
physics and mathematics of irjfinity applied to 
it : that the love which he gave to one wr^man, 
left the sum-total of tfie love whJeli fie could 
give to other women unaffeet/;d. 

Mary, however, would not be r;xpected U) 
take that view; and no woman will blame fjcr 
for not taking it. Kvf;n (iieorge Sand could not 
persua/le [jerw:lf to take it where Chopin was 

25« 



THE HOMAXriC LIFE OF SHKIJ.KV 

roiu'cnicHl, tlu>ui>h sho hud oxpootrd All'ivil cle 
IMussot nnd Dr. Pnii^t^lK) to tnko it when her own 
jifftH'tions \\\>r(^ in a slali> of lliix. Whtit Mary 
wanted was, naturally, ti> liavo Sht^lK v to her- 
self: nnd for about a. yc>ar. she iJtot her way. He 
travelled witli her, after their de})arturc^ Troni the 
London lodginas, in South Devon : and alter 
the sojourn at Clil'ton, they settled down, in a, 
fin'uished house, at Hishopoate, near \>'indsor 
Park, some time in August, 1815. '* No evc^its, 
as yon know," Shelley wrote thence to Hogg, 
'' disturb our tranquillity." 

No notable events happened, indeed, exetj^t 
the birth of iNIary's boy William. The exehange 
of visits with Hogg, who was in London, and 
Peacock who was at INFarlow ; an excursion with 
Peacock and Charles Clairmont up the river as 
far as liCchlade ; negotiations with Sir Timothy 
about the settlement of the estate^ : correspond- 
ence with (lodwin, who wanted Shelley to pay 
further debts, but was too proud and punctilious 
to take a cheque from him drawn to his own 
order : — those are the details, and it is not 
worth while to dwt^ll on tluMU. Nor is it of 
much moment that Peacock, at this period, in- 
duced Shelley, vegetarian though he proft^ssed to 
be, to eat " mutton chops well p(^p})ered," or 
that the example of Hogg's hunger gave him 
a taste for baeon. The sojourn is chielly to be 
remembered for the composition of .iJastor. 

That, of course, marked an epoch. Before 
^ilcuitor Shelley was mainly a dialectician, 
25i 



AT CMFTON AND lUSIIOIHMTK 

pcrsuudcd tliul. the liiimun mcc vvns jx ii'(;(;tibl(;, 
und nii^lit he miido p('rf(!ct hy rrioh onitors 
speaking the lan^ujj|»;< of (nirc reason. VVitfi the 
wrilin^ of .ilaslar, Llie (lialeel-i<-ian was lost, 
in tli(; poel, wlio, wil:lioiil- renouneiu^ prohahly 
without: doubl.in^ jiny ol" the old ])rineiples, 
I'oufid tliai l-he task' wlii(tli lay nearest to him 
was, not propagandisrn, huL sell'-rcjili/ation and 
sell-expression. Mary was resl-iiil es])e(!ially 
resU'iil when .Jane was oiil, ol' Llie way -and he 
could wander in I. he woo(Js and reineniher emo- 
tion in lran(juillil,y foi" I-Ih; (irst time in his 
tem])esl,uous life. 

l*erhaps for he Jilways expeeted the; tem- 
porary to be permanent — he irrui^ined that Jane 
would remain in her Lynmouth lod^in^ for <'ver. 
Perhaps Mary too, bein^ so younj; and inex- 
perienced, cherished the sjim(! d(;lusion. It was 
the sort of thirif^ that mi)[(ht liappen at the end 
of a fairy tale. Hut no one in real life ever stays 
for (;v('r in a Lynmonth lodgin^-liouse ; and 
.inrie was a very real person. Frasques were; 
irrii)ossible at J^ynmouth ; and /rasf/ues were 
fKccssary to lier. Exactly when and how sfie 
got away from l.ynmoutli — exactly where she 
w(Mt when she did get away — no one app(;ars 
to know. A))])}irently she (|uarter<;d herself for 
a timrr u[)on hei" brotfier Charles, and tl)en [)ro- 
f)osed herself once more as Mary's guctst. Appa- 
renlJy sIk; had established herself as Mary's 
guest at the timet wh(*n she l)urst into Uie house 
witli the memorabh,' (exclamation : — 

255 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

" Percy ! Mary ! What do you think ? The 
great Lord Byron loves me ! " 

That brings us to the most daring of all Jane's 
frasques ; and it will be worth while to get at 
the exact truth about it. That exact truth 
certainly is not to be found in Professor Dowden's 
Life of Shelley, or in Mrs. Marshall's Life of 
Mrs. Shelley; nor did Cordy Jeaffreson present 
it in either The Real Shelley or The Real Byron ; 
nor did Jane herself tell it, when Mr. William 
Graham interviewed her at Florence. But, if 
we check Mr. Graham's interview with Jane's 
letters, printed in Mr. Prothero's edition of 
Byron's works, we shall find that, while much 
which has been said can be contradicted, very 
little need, in the end, be left doubtful. 



256 



CHAPTER XXIII 

JANE CLAIRMONT'S RELATIONS WITH BYRON 

The generally accepted version of the Byron- 
Jane Clairmont story is as follows : — 

Jane took it into her head to seek a career on 
the stage. She called on Byron in his capacity 
of member of the Committee of Management of 
Drury Lane. Byron, as Professor Dowden puts 
it, " was skilled in the dangers which beset a 
woman's heart," and took advantage of that 
skill — for, still to quote Professor Dowden, " why 
should a man of genius set bounds to his appetite 
for delighted sensations ? " Jane, on her part, 
" eagerly desired to keep the great event of her 
life a secret," told neither Shelley nor Mary 
what had happened, but arranged, without con- 
fiding in them, either that they should go to 
Geneva to meet Byron, or else that Byron should 
go to Geneva to meet them. Cordy Jeaffreson 
added the conjecture — which Jane endorsed in 
conversation with Mr. Graham — that the in- 
trigue was the real cause of the Byron separation. 

The real causes of the Byron separation are 
now known; and it is established that Jane 
Clairmont had nothing whatever to do with 
them. Her name does not appear in the pre- 
sentation of Lady Byron's case in Astarte. That 
R " 257 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

error is the first to put aside; and the next 
mistake is best presented in Jane's own story, 
reported by IMr. Graham : — 

" I called ... on Byron in his capacity of 
manager, and he promised to do what he could 
to help me as regards the stage. The result you 
know. I am too old now to play with any mock 
repentance. I was young, and vain, and poor. 
He was famous beyond all precedent, so famous 
that people, and especially young people, hardly 
considered him as a man at all, but rather as a 
god. His beauty was as haunting as his fame, 
and he was all-pow^erful in the direction in which 
my ambition turned. It seemed to me, almost 
needless to say, that the attentions of a man 
like this, with all London at his feet, very quickly 
completely turned the head of a girl in my 
position; and when you recollect that I was 
brought up to consider marriage not only as a 
useless but as an absolutely sinful custom, that 
only bigotry made necessary, you will scarcely 
wonder at the result which you know." 

It is very plausible. The story hangs together ; 
but — litera scripta manet. Documents in Jane's 
handwriting — to say nothing of documents in 
Byron's handwriting — contradict most of the 
statements; and others of them can be contra- 
dicted from other sources. 

It was not true that Jane had been brought 
up in the doctrines of Free Love. Her mother 
258 



JANE CLATRMONT AND BYRON 

had never held those doctrines, and her step- 
father had abandoned them before he married 
her mother; while both father and mother Iiad 
quarrelled with Mary and Shelley for putting 
them in practice. Nor is it true that Jane intro- 
duced herself to Byron with a view to obtaining 
a theatrical engagement; or that Byron took 
the initiative in the matter of " attentions." 
What really happened was that Jane wrote to 
Byron under an assumed name from an accom- 
modation address, making no mention whatsoever 
of theatrical ambitions, but laying her heart at 
his feet : — 

" An utter stranger takes the liberty of ad- 
dressing you. ... It is not charity I demand, 
for of that I stand in no need. ... I tremble 
with fear at the fate of this letter. I cannot 
blame if it shall be received by you as an impu- 
dent imposture. ... It may seem a strange 
assertion, but it is not the less true that I place 
my happiness in your hands. ... If a woman 
whose reputation has yet remained unstained, 
if, without either guardian or husband to control, 
she should throw herself upon your mercy, if 
with a beating heart she should confess the love 
she has borne you many years, if she should 
secure to you secrecy and safety, if she should 
return your kindness with fond affection and 
unbounded devotion, could you betray her, or 
could you be silent as the grave ? . . . I must 
entreat your answer without delay. . . . Address 
R 2 259 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

me as E. Trefusis, 21, Noley Place, Mary le 
Bonne." 

That letter removes all question as to who 
began the love-making. Byron seems not to 
have answered it; so we find Jane returning to 
the charge under another nom de guerre : — 

" Lord Byron is requested to state whether 
seven o'clock this evening will be convenient 
to him to receive a lady to communicate with 
him on business of peculiar importance. She 
desires to be admitted alone, and with the 
utmost privacy." 

That letter is signed " G. C. B." Byron re- 
plied by making an appointment which he does 
not appear to have kept; for we next find Jane 
writing: "I have called twice on you; but 
your servants declare you to be out of town." 
This time she drops pseudonyms, and signs her 
own name; and this is the first letter in which 
the theatre appears. Jane asks not for help, 
but for advice : " Is it absolutely necessary to 
go through the intolerable and disgusting 
drudgery of the provincial theatres before com- 
mencing on the boards of a metropolis ? " 

Byron, in answer, referred Jane to his col- 
league in management, Douglas Kinnaird ; but 
Jane did not go to Douglas Kinnaird : a fact 
which may be taken as giving the measure of 
the sincerity of her theatrical aspirations. In 
260 



JANE CLAIRMONT AND BYRON 

the next letter there is a change of front. Jane's 
ambitions are no longer theatrical, but literary. 
She has written " half of a novel or tale," and 
wants Byron to criticize it. She is afraid he may 
think her " intruding and troublesome," but 
— she also feels that she knows him well enough 
to invite his sympathy by remarks about that 
married state which, as all the world knows, he 
has found so unsatisfactory : — 

" Do you remember his (Dante's) inscription 
over the gate of hell — 

Lasciate ogni speranza voi ch'' entrate. 

I think it is a most admirable description of 
marriage. The subject makes me prolix. I can 
never resist the temptation of throwing a pebble 
at it as I pass by." 

Still Byron remained unmoved. One gathers 
as much from Jane's complaint that " there is 
little in your lordship's stern silence to embolden 
me ; " but Jane was one of those women with 
whom a little emboldening goes a very long way. 
" You bade me believe," she protests, " that it 
was a fancy which made me cherish an attach- 
ment to you." She adds that " it cannot be a 
fancy since you have been for the last year the 
object upon which every solitary moment led 
me to muse." And then she makes her final 
plunge, sending her note by hand to Piccadilly 
Terrace, and waiting in Hamilton Place for the 
answer : — 

261 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

" I may appear to you imprudent, vicious 
. . . but one thing at least time shall show you, 
that I love gently and with affection, that I am 
incapable of anything approaching to the feeling 
of revenge or malice : I do assure you your 
future will, shall be mine. . . . 

*' Have you then any objection to the fol- 
lowing plan ? On Thursday evening we may go 
out of town together by some stage or mail 
abovit the distance of ten or twelve miles. There 
we shall be free and unknown; we can return 
early the following morning. I have arranged 
everything here so that the slightest suspicion 
may not be excited. . . . 

" Will you admit me for two moments to 
settle with you where ? Indeed, I will not stay 
an instant after you tell me to go. . . . Do 
what you will, or go where you will, refuse to see 
me, and behave unkindly, I shall never forget 
you. I shall ever remember the gentleness of 
your manners and the wild originality of your 
countenance." 

And so on, and so forth. No one who has 
analysed that correspondence will ever again 
believe that Byron took advantage of the inno- 
cence of a young woman who appealed to him 
to exert " influence " in favour of her pro- 
fessional career on the stage. On the contrary, 
it is as clear as daylight that the young woman 
in question only pretended that she wanted to 
be an actress in order to obtain admission to 
262 



.TANK CLAJRMONT AND IiYlU)N 

iiyron's Fiousf, and thcD Icfl. him no [x-acj: until 
\i<' (tonHcntc-d to make her [lis miHtrcss. His own 
version of tfie matter, n^ported to his sister 
Aij^njstJi vvfierj he arifJ Jane met again at Geneva, 
is evidently the true one : — 

*' Now, dearest, I do most truly tell thee that 
I eould not hr^lp this, that I did all I could to 
prevent it, and have at last put an end to it. 
I was not in love, nor have any love left for any; 
hut J <;ould not exaetly j>lay the Stole with a 
woman who had scrambled eight hundred miles 
to unphilosophise me." 

That letter seems to dispose of the view that 
Byron wr:nt to Geneva to meet Jane. The 
meeting can hardly have been accidental ; and 
the conclusion follows that Jane went there to 
meet JJyron. The question remains : Did she 
get Shelley to take her there by persuading him 
and Mary that Geneva was a place they really 
ought to see ? Or did she arrange the meeting 
with their help and connivance V That is a 
point on which there is a direct conflict of testi- 
mony between Jane, and Shelley's and Mrs. 
Shelley's biographers. 

Perhaps the least plausible of the theories is 
that set forth by Mrs. Marshall. Shelley and 
Mary, she says, were " ignorant and unsuspecting 
(jf the intrigue " Vjctween Byron and Jane ; but 
they nevertheless went to Geneva with the idea 
of meeting Byron, of whose movements Jane had 

263 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

informed them. In reply to that it suffices to 
say that Shelley and Mary must have been very 
unsuspecting indeed if they had accepted Jane's 
knowledge of Byron's itinerary as a matter of 
course and asked no questions about it. Professor 
Dowden at all events avoids that pitfall. 

" That Shelley," he writes, " had decided to 
leave England independently of Clara's solici- 
tations we know for certain ; it is not improbable, 
however, that her desire to visit Geneva may have 
hastened his departure, and may have helped to 
determine his destination." 

Professor Dowden adds that Mary, at that date, 
can be proved by letters which he has seen, not 
even to have known that Byron and Miss Clair- 
mont were acquainted. One would like to see 
his evidence ; and, while awaiting it, one notes 
that he guards himself against making the state- 
ment that Shelley shared Mary's ignorance. 
Jane's own statements, however, if correctly re- 
ported, are equally at variance with those of 
both biograpliers. She says that she took Byron 
down to Marlow to meet Shelley; that she and 
Byron and Shelley and Mary lunched together 
at the Marlow inn ; and finally that " early in 
the following year all was arranged for the 
meeting at Geneva." And when Mr. Graham 
asked her whether Shelley and Mary approved 
of the intimacy : — 

" Most certainly," she replied briefly. " I 
264 



JANE CLAIRMONT AND BYRON 

have already told you — what you know, of course, 
already — what the Shelleys' opinions on these 
matters were, or what Shelley's were, because 
Mary docilely followed his lead in these things; 
and in a lasting union, as he hoped it would be, 
between his sister-in-law, as he always called me, 
and a man whom he at that time considered 
almost as a god, he saw nothing but what should 
ardently be desired. He thought that I would 
be to Byron what Mary was to him. Alas ! alas ! 
little did any one of us understand what Byron 
really was then." 

Thus Jane. But Jane, as we have just seen, 
was a very inaccurate person. Nothing that 
Jane says can be believed simply because Jane 
says it. Jane's story of the Marlow trip does not 
accord with the evidence of Jane's letters. Her 
relations with Byron, if they had begun, cer- 
tainly did not mature until after Shelley had come 
to London ; so that, if any meeting between the 
two poets did take place, London was almost 
certainly the scene of it. Mrs. Marshall, in fact, 
speaks of a meeting between Byron and Mary, 
though without naming her authority; but that 
is a detail. The essential question is : Did 
Mary and Shelley know ? Did they, as Jane 
says, approve ? 

No positive answer to these questions is pos- 
sible ; but, when we come to balance con- 
jectures : — 

1. There is no iota of suggestion anywhere in 

265 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

the published correspondence that their sub- 
sequent discovery of what had happened shocked, 
or even surprised, them. 

2. A motive is badly wanted — and their 
knowledge and approval would supply one — for 
Mary's willingness to accept Jane as the com- 
panion of her journey. 

Mary, as we have seen, was so tired of Jane 
that she moved heaven and earth to get her out 
of the house. Jane, on her own showing, was an 
incorrigible flirt. " It was not my fault that 
men fell in love with me," she said to Mr. Graham, 
when he suggested that her presence in Shelley's 
house must have been disconcerting to Mary. 
We have already seen reasons — and we shall see 
others — for believing that Mary was jealous; 
and, if Mary was jealous, nothing would have 
been more natural than that she should rejoice 
to see Jane's affections diverted into another 
channel. 

She could not have been shocked ; for what 
Jane was proposing to do was only what she 
herself had done. On no conceivable grounds 
could she hold that Byron and Jane were bound 
to obey conventions which she and Shelley were 
free to break. At the most she could only fear 
that Jane might find it easier to get into trouble 
than to extricate herself from it — as indeed 
proved to be the case. But that was Jane's 
affair; and if she had to choose between seeing 
Jane make love to Byron and seeing her make 
love to Shelley, she would have been more than 

26a 



JANE CLAIRMONT AND BYRON 

human if she had not encouraged Jane in her 
capricious fancy for throwing herself into Byron's 
arms. Nothing, too, is more natural than that 
she should afterwards, in the light of all that 
happened, prefer to forget that she had done so. 
On the whole, therefore (though nothing is 
certain), it is with Jane's version of the story 
that the balance of probability lies. That point 
made clear, we may once more return to Shelley, 
and follow him on his Swiss excursion. 



267 



CHAPTER XXIV 

AT GENEVA AND (iUKVr MAKLOW— SHELLEY'S SECOND 
MAKULV(,K 

The Genevan episode, belonoinsj as it does to 
Bvron's life as well as Shelley's, has been nuieh 
written about and may be passed over brielly. 
How the two parties left their hotel for subur- 
ban villas: how Byron and Shelley, sailing to- 
oetlier on the Lake, narrowly eseaped ship- 
wreek on the roeks at IMeillerie ; how the 
telling of ghost stories led to the writing of them 
— and especially to the writing of IMary's Franken- 
stein ; how Shelley took Mary to Chanionix, and 
made a memorable entry in a visitor's book '—all 
these things are well known, and there is nothing 
to be added. Still, if we are to get things in 
their true perspective, one point must be made. 

It was Byron who drew attention to Shelley, 
who, but for Byron, would almost have eseaped 
observation. Nobody, in fact, took any notice 
of Shelley until Byron joined him. The boarders 
at Dejeante's hotel may or may not have known 
that he had been expelled from Oxford, had 
left his wife, and had eloj^d with his friend's 
daughter ; the}'' certainly did not let their minds 
dwell upon the matter to the exclusion of other 

^ Ei'jui <fii\av$piiiiro<i 8r][xoKpa.TiK6<; t' d^eos re. 

268 



AT GENEVA AND GREAT MARLOW 

interests ; they bad no opportunity oi' refusing him 
their society, lor [le did not seek it. It was not 
till Byron arrived with F)is coaeh and his retinue, 
and ignored all the hoarders exeept Shell(;y and 
his party, that they began to stare. 

When once they had begun to stare, however, 
nothing eould stop them from staring. TFiey stared 
from morn till eve. They stared at the party 
when tFiey went out, and they stared at them 
when they came home. They gathered on the 
hotel steps to stare, much as idle women gather 
on the pavement outside a ehureh when a wedding 
is in progress within; they gathered with similar 
curiosity on the Lake landing-stages. In the 
end they stared the fjarty out of the hotel ; and 
tliey continued to stare at them after they had 
left it for their suburban villas. It seemed to 
them they might thus at once satisfy their 
curiosity and prove their moral worth. 

A queer contrast truly ! Ttie immoral people 
in the villas absolutely indifferent to the pro- 
ceedings of the moral people in the hotel ; the 
moral people in the hotel so inquisitive about 
the " goings-on " of the immoral people in the 
villas that they persuaded the landlord to rig 
up a telescope at some point of vantage in order 
that they might take it in turns to peep at them. 
One can imagine their self-complacent con- 
versations — the self-comY)laeent conversations 
of the women in particular — while they waited 
for their turns. No dcjubt they thanked God 
that they were not as other women were — 

269 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

even as Mary and Jane — ^unless, as is quite 
as likely, they took the credit to themselves; 
and we may be quite sure that they never sus- 
pected that thoughts and conversation were, 
just then, moving on a higher plane in immoral 
than in moral circles. Happily, or unhappily, 
as one prefers to put it, life does, from time to 
time, present such ironies. 

It was in one of the immoral villas, for example, 
that " Monk " Lewis, after a conversation on the 
iniquities of the slave-trade, signed the famous 
codicil to his will, forbidding the sale and secur- 
ing the good treatment of the negroes on his 
West Indian plantation; and no action so credi- 
table as that is recorded of any of the boarders 
at the moral hotel. It was at the villas, too, 
that Shelley brought Byron under the new 
influence of Wordsworth, with results which may 
be clearly traced in the Third Canto of Childe 
Harold. And, of course, there was " talk about 
virtue " and diligent study of the best authors, 
even at the time when the " inquisitive moralists" 
with the telescope discerned, as Hobhouse told 
Mrs. Leigh, " certain robes and flounces on his 
lordship's balcony." 

Scandal, of course, was busy. Scandal said 
that Byron and Shelley were living in promiscuity 
with Jane and Mary. Southey, as a virtuous 
man, thought it a virtuous act to repeat the 
calumny. One cannot be sure whether Shelley 
heard the scandal at the time or not — ^there 
are, at any rate, no indications that it troubled 
270 



AT GENEVA AND GREAT MARLOW 

him. And so the days passed until it was time 
for him to go home, and — to take Jane with him. 
Jane did not want to go — that point is clear 
from Byron's letter to Augusta : — 

" I found her here — and I have had all the 
plague possible to persuade her to go back again ; 
but at last she went. Now, dearest, I do most 
truly tell thee that I did all I could to prevent it, 
and have at last put an end to it. ... I was 
fain to take a little love (if pressed particularly) 
by way of novelty. And now you know all 
that I know of the matter, and it's over." 

For Jane had dreamt the dream of which 
she has told us ; and the dream had been as brief 
as it was bright. She had dreamt it on her 
own responsibility, without encouragement from 
Byron, and — what are the precise obligations of 
a man towards a young woman with whom 
he has entered into intimate relations when 
separated from a wife who will not allow him 
to return to her ? 

Shelley, at any rate, did not censure Byron — 
possibly because he knew Jane too well to do so. 
He took with him, on his return, not only Byron's 
mistress, but also his manuscripts; and we find 
him correcting the proofs of the latter while 
providing a home for the former. And not 
merely providing a home for her, but guarding 
her secret from her mother and step-father, 
who seemed likely to renounce her if it became 

271 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

known to them. It must have been a great 
nuisance to Mary, whose hopes of getting rid of 
Jane were thus nipped in the bud, and who might 
well ask herself whether Jane was to be quartered 
on her for ever. The cry is quickly heard in a 
letter which she wrote to Shelley when he was 
once more house-hunting : — 

" A house with a lawn, a river or lake, noble 
trees, and divine mountains, that should be our 
little mouse-hole to retire to. But never mind 
this; give me a garden, and absentia Claire, and 
1 will thank my love for many favours." 

That was written from Bath, where Shelley 
had his headquarters until he took a house at 
Great Marlow. Before it was written, a tragedy 
had happened. Fanny Godwin had been found 
dead in an inn at Swansea with a bottle of lauda- 
num by her side. It was in connection with her 
death that Shelley wrote the well-known lines : — 

Her voice did quiver as we parted ; 

Yet knew I not that heart was broken 
From whence it came, and I departed 
Heeding not the words then spoken. 
Miserij—0 Miserij, 
This world is all too wide for thee ! 

He evidently wrote the lines in the belief 
that Fanny had died of unrequited love for 
him. Whether it was so or not we have no 
certain means of knowing. Mrs. Gisborne said 
272 



AT GENEVA AND GREAT MARLOW 

that Mrs. Godwin told her so; but Mrs. Godwin 
had a lively imagination, and may have wisficd 
to make it clear that it was not her fault 
that Fanny had been unhappy at home. Jane 
also said so, in later years; but Jane's imagina- 
tion was even livelier than Mrs. (iodwin's. There 
is no evidence there; and from other sources we 
can only gather hints. 

Shelley, as we know, began to correspond with 
Fanny before he fell in l(;ve with Mary; there 
may be a clue in that fact, though a faint one. 
Possibly, again, there is a clue in the reverential 
affection for Shelley — coupled with the com- 
plaint that Shelley laughs at her — contained in 
some of Fanny's letters to Mary. It might be 
thought that Fanny showed more than a 
stranger's or mere acquaintance's interest alike 
in Shelley's health and in his poems : — 

" I am angry with Shelley for not giving me 
an account of his health. All that I saw of him 
gave me great uneasiness about him, and as I see 
him but seldom, I am much more alarmed perhaps 
than you, who are constantly with him. . . . Beg 
the favour of Shelley to copy for me his poem on 
the scenes at the foot of Mont Blanc, and tell him 
or remind him of a letter which you said he had 
written on these scenes; you cannot think what 
a treasure they would be to me." 

The fact may seem strange, too, that Fanny, 

on that last journey, got as near to Bath as 

s 273 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

Bristol, and then passed on (though there was no 
need for hurry) without turning aside to visit 
Shelley and Mary. Seeing her come to their 
neighbourhood without any visible motive, and 
then, also without visible motive, avoid them, 
one is tempted to guess pretty much what Jane 
guessed. In short, one can build up a case if 
one cares to try ; but one cannot be sure. 

Fanny was a good, plain, sensitive, and morbid 
girl : a Cinderella who needed a fairy godmother, 
but never found one. She had never known 
either her father or her mother. She had been 
born into a world in which there was no proper 
place for her — in which she failed to make herself 
a place. She was the drudge of a gloomy, im- 
pecunious household ; and the circumstances of 
her birth made the hope of escape from it by 
marriage faint. Escape from it into the calling 
of a school-mistress would have been better than 
nothing; and even that escape failed her. Her 
aunt, Everina Wollstonecraft — a stern worship- 
per at the shrine of appearances — refused in the 
end to have her in her Seminary. All her letters 
are despondent letters. She speaks to Mary 
of " the dreadful state of mind I generally labour 
under, and which I in vain endeavour to get rid 
of." Unreciprocated love*, if it indeed troubled 
her, can only have been one of many troubles ; 
and, in any case, if she had a secret to guard, 
she guarded it, — giving no hint of it even in the 
farewell letter found beside the poison bottle : 
" Perhaps to hear of my death may give you 
274 



SHELLEY'S SECOND IVIARRIAGE 

pain, but you will soon have the blessing of for- 
getting that such a creature ever existed as ..." 

It was over; and there was no more to be 
said, and nothing to do except to hush the 
matter up. That, in response to Godwin's 
appeal, was done; and a verdict of death by 
misadventure was secured. But the shock — 
which was none the less a shock, however 
little Shelley knew or suspected — was quickly 
followed by another. It was only two months 
after Fanny's death that the body identified as 
Harriet's was found in the Serpentine ; and after 
that ensued the Chancery suit, the judgment in 
which was delivered on March 27, 1817. 

That, at least, set Shelley free to marry 
Mary, and he married her at once. He believed, 
wrongly as it proved, that his haste to regularize 
an irregular situation would influence the Court 
in his favour; and it did, at any rate, reconcile 
Godwin. That philosopher now proceeded to 
sponge on the poet directly instead of doing so 
through the medium of solicitors — showing his 
independence the while by telling the poet that 
he did not think much of his poetry. That, 
broadly speaking, was the position of things 
when Shelley settled at Marlow, taking his house 
on a twenty-one years lease, with the declared 
intention of remaining there, if not " for ever," 
at least until his father died. 

The realities of life were never more real for 
him than then. The months of poverty in Lon- 
don lodgings had tried and aged him; but there 
S2 275 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

had been compensations, — the thrill of a nrw 
romance — the exciting sense of adventure. He 
had been able to face his troubles with Bohe- 
mian lightness of heart, cheered by the moral 
certainty that a way out of them would, before 
long, be found. There was no reason why he 
should not look back on them in the spirit of the 
prosperous French sage who cried regretfully : 
O les beaux jours, les beaux jours de ma jeunesse, 
quand j^etais si malheureux ! 

All that was over, and Shelley was as prosper- 
ous as a man with simple tastes need wish to 
be. He had no need to hide from creditors or 
besiege money-lenders with his importunities. 
He was free to dream his dreams in his boat 
in the Thames back-waters; and that was how 
he passed the summer of 1817. Laon and Cythna 
is the tangible outcome of the dreams. Yet 
his melancholy deepened as his social life 
expanded. 

Viewed from without, the period is one of great 
sociability. Shelley had dropped out of the 
circle in which he had shone in the later days 
of his union with Harriet — the Boinvilles, the 
Newtons, and the Turners saw no more of him; 
but he was forming a new circle in place of it. 
He became intimate with Leigh Hunt ^ and Horace 
Smith; he continued to be intimate with Hogg 
and Peacock; he met Keats and Charles Lamb. 
With most of his friends he exchanged hospi- 

^ He had already written to Leigh Hunt, to express 
sympat^hy with his opinions, when an undergraduate. 

276 



SHELLEY'S SECOND MARRIAGE 

talities. A country gentleman, the casual 
observer would have said, who was rather fond 
of running up to town, and enjoying himself in 
good company when he got there. But — there 
are a good many buts. 

Perhaps we may sum them up by saying that 
Shelley was discovering the truths about life 
which some men never discover at all, and few 
men discover until they are middle-aged. The 
game of life, in which he had engaged in such utter 
ignorance of the rules, had been one partly of 
chance, partly of skill. He had played without 
skill, and the luck had been against him. The 
consequences of his first defeat pursued him in 
his second experiment. He had learnt that, 
in life, it is not intention but action which carries 
consequences. His case was that of a man who, 
setting out to take his part in a pastoral idyll, 
finds himself involved in an uncontemplated 
tragedy; and he was not framed to sustain a 
tragic role, but was of an extreme sensibility — 
quick to perceive the difference between life as 
it might have been and life as it turned out to 
be : easily oppressed by the sense of death and 
doom, and of the nets of calamity closing round 
him. 

It had to be so. On no other condition could 
he have become the poet whom we know. One 
searches literary history in vain for a poet of 
his mark who has not learnt in suffering what he 
has taught in song. The garish contrast between 
the dream and the business besieges all of them 

277 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

in greater or less degree. They cannot live as 
they dream even if the world would let them ; and 
the world will not let them. They cannot separate 
the business from the dream ; but each disturbs 
the other. Ideal causes produce material effects, 
and entail material responsibilities. So with 
Shelley. 

He had meant well — ^no bishop on the bench 
could have meant better. It had seemed to him 
that he really had a " caii\" as the religious 
say, to spread the light, to redress wrong, to 
pursue romance in disregard of the warnings 
of the purse-proud and the worldly-wise. It 
had seemed to him, further, that it would be 
an act of treason to love if he hid a love he 
felt or affected a love which he had ceased 
to feel. No one who reads his letters can ques- 
tion his absolute sincerity in all these matters. 
He was quite as conscientious an idealist, quite 
as zealous for the amelioration of the world, 
as his Oxford contemporaries, John Keble and 
Thomas Arnold, when they embarked on their 
respective enterprises for the reform of the church 
and the schools ; but whereas they were in a fair 
way to be canonised, he was in a fair way to be- 
come a Pariah, enduring, as the result of his con- 
scientious candour, a persecution which a hypocrite 
and a libertine would have escaped. 

Repudiated by his family, held to blame for 
his wife's suicide, deprived of his children by 
the Courts, — he had paid a heavy price for his 
precocious experiments with life, and would never 
278 



SHELLEY'S SECOND MARRIAGE 

again be able to face life in the old fearless 
spirit. The new friends whom he had found 
were hardly friends who could help him to do 
that ; for those of them who professed most affec- 
tion fastened themselves on him like leeches to 
suck his blood. Godwin demanded loans with 
as much insistence as if he had been demanding 
the payment of a debt. Leigh Hunt borrowed 
large sums from him, while his wife borrowed 
small sums from Mary. Peacock wanted £100 
a year, and got it. Charles Clairmont, who had 
found his way to the Pyrenees, asked for such 
an allowance as would enable him to marry and 
settle down there. 

Perhaps Shelley did not mind ; but Mary 
most certainly minded. One begins, at this 
date, to detect a certain plaintive peevishness 
in her letters : the tone of a woman who loves 
her husband, indeed, but has her own opinion 
about her husband's friends. She is never, or 
hardly ever, violent ; but she says something 
disagreeable — or something to arouse suspicion — 
about each of them in turn. The solicitor, 
Longdill, for instance, " makes out long bills and 
does nothing." Peacock " dines here every day, 
uninvited, to drink his bottle." Claire " is for 
ever wearying with her idle and childish com- 
plaints." 

Of what Claire complained one does not know ; 
but Mary certainly had something to complain 
of in connection with her. It may or may not 
have aggrieved her that Shelley wrote verses 

279 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

to Claire as well as to herself. The lines " To 
Constant ia singing," which belong to this date, 
do certainly read as if they rendered something 
more than mere admiration of the trained art of 
the vocalist; and it is also certain that Shelley, 
at this date, made the will in which he bequeathed 
Claire £12,000. Far worse than that, however, 
was the fact that gossip asserted Shelley to be 
the father of Claire's child : a cruel reward truly 
for Mary's kindness in giving Claire a home 
before, during, and after her confinement. 

That we may take it was the deciding 
circumstance which made Mary — and Shelley 
himself, in a less degree — anxious, once more, 
to go abroad. Shelley's health was the reason 
given to those who were in a position to ask for 
reasons ; and no doubt he did believe himself 
to be in danger of pulmonary consumption. 
But there undoubtedly were other reasons also; 
and the desire to put an end to scandal by placing 
Allegra in the hands of her actual father — if not 
also to induce AUegra's father to take charge 
of AUegra's mother — may be supposed to have 
been the most potent of them. 



280 



CHAPTER XXV 

DEPARTURE FOR ITALY— THE "ESCAPE FROM LIFE"— 
THE SOCIAL BOYCOrr 

The mood and motive — the inwardness and the 
psychology — of Shelley's last departure for the 
Continent differed widely from those of the pre- 
ceding journeys. The first trip had been a frolic, 
conceived in the spirit of irresponsible frivolity. 
The second (in spite of the complications which 
it originated) had been a very ordinary holiday 
excursion. The third (whatever the immediate 
occasion of it) must be classed with the endea- 
vours of baffled men to " escape from life." 

Not, of course, that Shelley was hounded out 
of the country as Byron had been. In spite of 
the Chancery suit — in spite of the wild utter- 
ances of Laon and Cythna — he was far too 
inconspicuous to receive such treatment. His 
name was hardly ever in the papers ; hardly any 
one read what he wrote; hardly any one knew 
who he was. But he had lost his way in life, 
and knew it; his illusions were falling like the 
autumn leaves. It was not merely that, having 
set out buoyantly to fight the battle of " enthu- 
siasm " against " prejudice," he had found pre- 
judice too strongly entrenched for enthusiasm to 
make any impression on it. He had also got 

281 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

himself so entangled in a net of circumstance 
that it was only of the inward life that he could, 
in the future, hope to make anything. 

That was how he differed from those brilliant 
Oxford contemporaries with whom we have con- 
trasted him. John Keble and Thomas Arnold 
were no more his moral than his intellectual 
superiors. Their advantage over him (in the 
view of those who assign them advantage) lay 
in their comparative lack of originality. They 
marched a little ahead of the mob, but not 
too far ahead to get out of sight. They saw 
visions — but only such visions as the multitude 
could understand. The gospels which they re- 
spectively preached were gospels which the world 
was ready to receive. They did not shock — or 
not to any great extent; they were not difficult 
to understand ; they did not use any but the 
approved machinery for their propagandism. 
Above all, they had no troublesome impulses 
driving them to hasty action. Consequently 
they reaped their reward in their lifetime; and, 
whether they were in sympathy with common- 
place people or not, it was easy for common- 
place people to be in sympathy with them. 

Shelley, on the contrary, had had emotions, 
and had been betrayed by them. When he 
wanted to do a thing, and saw no obvious reason 
for not doing it, he jumped to the conclusion 
that he ought to do it, and did it at once. Alike 
in eloping with Harriet, and in separating from 
her, and in eloping with Mary, he had been 
282 



DEPARTURE FOR ITALY 

trying, according to his lights, to discharge the 
duty which seemed to lie nearest to him. He 
had always said what he thought, and done what 
he felt impelled to do, without regard to the 
tender feelings of the weaker brethren; and the 
weaker brethren are not so weak as they seem to 
be, but can be terrible when roused. Shelley had 
roused them, and they had turned on him, ex- 
claiming, as is their wont, that the strong man 
is the man who swims with the tide, and the 
virtuous man he who shouts with the crowd. 
That was his punishment for not being like other 
people ; and he felt it keenly, and was already 
in the mood to write, as he wrote later : — 

" / fall upon the thorns of life ; I hleed^ 

It is the tradition that the man in such a 
mood should travel. It is also the tradition 
that he should go south or east, rather than 
north or west. Life, it seems to him, will be 
less troublesome among strangers, and in the 
sunshine. He will be able to dream out his 
dream there, unimpeded by the business. His 
melancholy, though there may be no escape 
from it, will take a softer tone ; discomfort will 
be eliminated ; self-realization will console. Thus 
he reflects, and packs; thus we may picture 
Shelley reflecting while he packed. 

It was not his destiny — ^perhaps it is no man's 
destiny — quite to realize his dream. A certain 
shining halo of false impressions has gradually 
formed about the records of his life in Italy. 

283 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

One has come to imagine him and Mary, lovers 
always — lovers as devoted at the end as at the 
beginning — counting the world well lost for love, 
yet winning back as much of the world as was 
worth winning by the spectacle of genius and 
beauty in accord ; sufficing for each other, and 
on that account envied by all who were privi- 
leged to behold ; comforting each other in sor- 
row, supporting each other in joy, and so building 
and embellishing a perfect romance, which the 
abhorred shears cut prematurely short. 

Things were not quite like that, however ; and 
the world is the gainer from the fact that they 
were not. If they had been, we should never 
have heard the " deep autumnal tone " sighing 
through the Ode to the West Wind, or the pas- 
sionate appeal for " half the gladness " of the 
Skylark ; the cry that " our sweetest songs are 
those which tell of saddest thought," or the 
longing for 

" That content surpassing wealth 
The sage in meditation found. 
And walked with inward glory crowned.''^ 

Content of that kind was not for Shelley any 
more than the base content of those who only 
ask to be well-fed, well-clothed, and well-to-do. 
He could sa}^, indeed, when the sun shone on 
the Bay of Naples, that 

" Now despair itself is mild 

Even as the waves and waters are.'''' 
284 



THE 'ESCAPE FROM LIFE' 

But the mildest despair is a different thing from 
either hope or joy. 

It may be that Shelley asked more from life 
than life has to give. Most of us do that, in our 
several degrees, and in accordance with our 
several capacities for asking; but Shelley's 
capacity for asking — and for imagining the 
things to be asked for — exceeded that of 
other men. He resented the limitations which 
his thoughts transcended but his life could 
not transcend. His power of dreaming was 
such as no single dream could satisfy : his 
passion for romance too exacting for any single 
romance to fulfil all its needs. And so there 
were fluctuations between rapture and despond- 
ency, illusions followed by disillusions, notes of 
discord where there should have been harmony, 
an increasing pallor of the pale cast of his 
thoughts. 

What all this means, when expressed in plain 
statements of fact, we shall see, more or less 
clearly, as we proceed. It means, in a general 
way, of course, that the escape from life was, as 
it always is, incomplete; that the business 
pursued the dreamer even into the world of 
dreams ; that the dreams caused embarrassment, 
and that there were awakenings from them. It 
means, in particular, that Shelley's aspirations 
after universal love made trouble; that Mary's 
soul was sometimes vexed; that Mary and 
Shelley sometimes had opposing ambitions ; that 
Emilia Viviani, and Jane Williams, and Jane 

285 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

Clairmont ruffled the calm current of his Ufe in 
ways to be related- 
Shelley's first task, on reaching Italy, was to 
deliver Allegra to Byron, whom he visited at 
Venice, and who refused either to see or to 
correspond with Allegra's mother. He has some- 
times been censured for accepting Byron's friend- 
ship when Byron treated Allegra's mother so 
badly; but the rights and wrongs of the case 
are not so simple as such a censure would 
imply. We have already seen that Jane Clair- 
mont threw herself at Byron's head; we also 
have her confession that she was not in love 
with Byron when she did so : — 

" ' I suppose you are as crass as most men, 
and think that I loved Byron ? ' 

'' I made no reply. 

" ' My young friend, no doubt you will know 
a woman's heart better some day. I was dazzled ; 
but that does not mean love. It might perhaps 
have grown into love; but it never did.' " 

That is another scrap from Miss Clairmont's 
confessions to Mr. Graham. It immediately pre- 
cedes the confession, previously quoted, that she 
loved Shelley — " with all my heart and soul." 
There follows Miss Clairmont's protest that Byron 
" told lies about Shelley " ; and then come ex- 
pressions of scepticism from Mr. Graham; and 
then we read : — 
286 




, i^y^a^ //^C^a^^/^Z^. 



«%? ■^a,e^t^i^ta''li^l^U^i^ en^^/uyiyU'^tUeV'an/iiuMa/Mf'. 



'>2^<!4<2 




;^ZW/.««5'&« 






THE 'ESCAPE FROM LIFE' 

" ' You impertinent boy ! If you do not be- 
lieve what I tell you, why traverse Europe to 
see me ? ' 

" ' There are things, madam,' I said, ' which 
it is the duty of every man to believe when told 
him by a lady, and I have conquered my scepti- 
cism. I remember you told me Shelley was a 
devoted student of Plato.' 

" Two smart boxes on the ear were the only 
reply I received to this. A sorry return, indeed, 
for obedience and faith." 

If that was Jane Clairmont's attitude, then 
Byron's attitude is intelligible; and one can 
readily believe that her language about Byron 
was not such as to make Shelley eager to press 
her suit on her behalf and quarrel with Byron 
for rejecting it. Nor is there any reason what- 
ever to believe that Shelley regarded, or wished 
to regard, himself as Byron's successful rival. 
One feels throughout, in spite of the Lines to 
Constantia, in spite of the legacy, in spite of 
Mary's bitter outbreaks, in spite of everything, 
that there never was any question of a grand 
passion on Shelley's side — least of all at this 
particular epoch; and one suspects, also, that 
Jane, in retrospect, exaggerated the vehemence 
of her own feelings. 

Still, Shelley did his best for Jane; and his 
best was far better than it would have been if 
he had approached Byron in the spirit of the 
indignant champion of innocence betrayed. 

287 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

Byron lent him and his party his country villa 
at Este, and allowed Allegra to be received there 
on a visit; Mary, on her part, approving, and 
showing as little inclination as Shelley himself 
to force a mistress on a reluctant lover. No 
doubt she was disappointed; but the situation 
was one of those tangles in which either nobody 
is to blame for anything, or else everybody is 
to blame for everything. Attempts to unravel 
the tangle could only have tangled it the more; 
and there really was nothing for it except to 
behave as if nothing in particular had happened. 
Nothing, at any rate, had happened per- 
turbing to Mary's peace of mind. Her only 
trouble at this time was the death of her baby 
Clara ^ from a sudden fever : a cruel blow, but 
not, as she had another child, a grief to break 
her spirit. Nor is there anything in the outward 
events of the period under review which need 
detain us. The route of the wanderers was from 
Milan to Pisa, from Pisa to Leghorn, from Leg- 
horn to Bagni di Lucca; thence to Florence, to 
Padua, and, as we have seen, to Venice and 
Este; thence, after some delay, to Rome. They 
read and wrote, of course, as always. Shelley, 
with a book or a pen in his hand, could always, 
even in the shadow of calamity, escape from the 
business to the dream. Mary tried to do so too — 
and sometimes did so — and, more often, thought 
that she did so; but in one of Mary's letters we 
come across a pathetic note, which is like a flash 

^ Born at Marlow. 
288 



THE 'ESCAPE FROM LIFE' 

of lightning revealing the secret thoughts in her 
mind. Her correspondent is Mrs. Gisborne : — ^ 

" If all of you, or any of you would come and 
cheer my solitude, it would be exceedingly kind. 
. . . We know no one ; we speak to one or two 
people at the Casino, and that is all." 

That is our first hint of the social boycott, 
which meant far more to Mary than to Shelley, 
— as it always means more to a woman than to 
a man. It meant more to her than it would have 
meant to some women ; for she was not a heroine 
designed by nature for the r61e which she sus- 
tained. Credible witnesses depose that she was 
the most conventional woman who ever let her- 
self be lured, for once in her life, into uncon- 
ventional courses. She desired gaiety — or, at 
least, society; balls, and grand receptions, if it 
might be — but at least, tea-parties, afternoon 
callers, a social position. Trelawny says that 
she " even affected the pious dodge," and attended 
church, in the hope of earning these privileges. 
She was to have some success in the end, 
but not much; and, in the meantime, she 
had none. That was the first cloud on the 
Italian sky. 

Shelley was not sensible of it. It was neither 
at the receptions of Italian countesses, nor at 

1 A friend of Godwin's, formerly Mrs. Reveley. Godwin, 
when a widower, had proposed marriage to her; but she 
had preferred Mr. Gisborne, with whom she lived principally 
on the Continent. 

T 289 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

the tea-tables of English trippers, that he sought 
his escape from hfe. Tlie things wliieh Mary 
would have liked to fiy to were pretty nuieh the 
things which he liad lied from. Perhaps he never 
realized that these were tlie things which Mary 
really missed and wanted — certainly he realized 
nothing of tlie kind as yet. His letters breathe no 
doubt of Mary's adequacy to his happiness. But 
they do record something of a light for happi- 
ness — an unexplained depression of spirits which 
the Italian skies alleviate, but do not remove : — 

" We have now warm, sunny days, and soft 
winds, and a sky of deep azure, the most serene 
I ever saw. . . . My spirits and health sym- 
))athise in the change. Indeed, before I left 
London, my spirits were as feeble as my health, 
and I had demands on them which I found it 
difficult to supply." 

" No sooner had we arrived at Italy than the 
loveliness of the earth and the serenity of the 
sky made the greatest difference in my sensa- 
tions. I depend on these things for my life; for 
in the smoke of cities, and the tunuilt of human- 
kind, and the chilling fogs and rain of our own 
country, I can hardly be said to live. . . . My 
health is improved already — and my spirits 
somewhat." 

" I will endeavour to tell you something of 
these celebrated places in my next letter; but 
290 



TTTE SOCIAL BOYCOTT 

I cannot promise much, for though my health 
is much improved, my spirits arc une(jual and 
seem to desert me when I attempt to write." 

" My health is, I think, hettcr, and, I imagine, 
continues to improve, but I still have busy 
thoughts and dispiriting cares, which I would 
shake off — and it is now summer." 

And so forth; the same note being struck in 
the very last letter written, in October, 1818, 
before the start for Rome and Naples : " I will 
write again, from Rome and Florence — in better 
spirits, and to more agreeable purpose, I 
hope." 

There are, of course, many other things in the 
letters : accounts of literary projects, descrip- 
tions of scenery and sights, criticisms of Italian 
manners, complaints of English tourists, denun- 
ciations of Wordsworth as "" a beastly and 
pitiful wretch," — an apostate, that is to say, 
false to the faith of the French Revolution. 
There are passages eloquently commemorative of 
moments when the sunshine seems about to 
triumph, — notably the well-known passage in 
which Shelley, at Bagni di Lucca, pictures him- 
self bathing " in a pool or fountain, formed in 
the middle of the forests by a torrent " : — 

*' My custom is to undress and sit on the rocks, 

reading Herodotus, until the perspiration has 

subsided, and then to leap from the edge of the 

T2 291 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

rock into this fountain — a practice in the hot 
weather excessively refreshing. This torrent is 
composed, as it were, of a succession of pools 
and waterfalls, up which I sometimes amuse 
myself by climbing when I bathe, and receiving 
the spray all over my body, whilst I clamber up 
the moist crags with difFlcult5^" 

The sunshine, it would seem, triumphed for 
the moment then, — but only for the moment. 
It nearly triumphed, yet again, when Shelley lay 
on his back in a gondola in the lagoons of Venice 
— but the triumph was never complete or lasting. 
Coelurn non animum mutmit qui trans mare 
currunt, — one is always brought to think of that 
hackneyed phrase as one reads on; and Quisque 
suos patimur Manes comes to the mind together 
with it. The picture from which one cannot 
escape is that of Shelley dreeing a weird — 
haunted by the vague shape of his own shadow — 
realizing himself, indeed, but realizing also the 
pain of the gestation. One is irresistibly re- 
minded of the rendering of the mood by another 
poet, widely different from Shelley in most ways, 
but a traveller who saw the same scenes : — 

A Pise, au pied de VApennin ; 
A Cologne, en face du Rhin ; 
A Nice, au penchant des valUes ; 
A Florence, au fond des palais ; 
A Brigues, dans les vieux chalets ; 
Au sein des Alpes desolees ; 
292 



THE SOCIAL BOYCOTT 

A Genes, sous les citronniers ; 

A Vevay, sous les verts pommiers ; 

Au Havre devant VAtlantiqiie ; 

A Venise, a Vaffreux Lido, 

Oil vient sur Vherbe d'un tomheau 

Mourir la pale Adriatique ; 

Partout oil fai voulu dormvr, 
Partout oil fai voulu mourir y 
Partout oil fai touche la terre, 
Sur ma route est venu s^asseoir 
Un malheureux vetu de noir. 
Qui me ressemblait comme un frtre : 

" Le del m'a con fie ton coeur. 
Quand tu seras dans la douleur, 
Viens h moi sans inquietude ; 
Je te suivrai sur le chemin, 
Mais je ne puis toucher ta main. 
Ami, je suis la Solitude. "" 

Thus Alfred de Musset, who had none of 
Shelley's fine enthusiasms, and in whose life gas- 
light and limelight played the part which sun- 
light played in Shelley's; but who is made kin 
with him by the discovery that he who would 
travel far must travel alone — and that he who 
travels alone cannot travel gleefully. 

And so to Rome and Naples. 



298 



CHAPTER XXVI 

KOMK AND N MM.KS-MKLANCllOLY AND THK VWSE OF 
IT^IANK CLAlKMONrS \X)\K VOW SMKLl.KY 

Shelley, with INLirv and Jjinc, spent :i week 
at Rome, and three niontlis at Naples, and then 
returned to Rome, whc^re he remained until the 
middle ol' June. ISIO, when his boy William 
died after a brief illness. 

The story of the sojourn at Naples holds a 
puzzle one puzzle at least, and perhaps more — 
for the biographer. The gloom whieh we have 
already seen besieging Shelley deepened there ; 
and it was there, so far as one knows, that Mary 
began to notiee it : — 

" Though he observed the appearance of cheer- 
fulness, and often greatly enjoyed our wanderings 
in the environs of Naples, and our excursions 
on its simny sea, yet many hours were passed 
when his thoughts, shadowed by illness, were 
gloomy ; and then he escaped to solitude, and 
in verses which he hid from fear of wounding me, 
poured forth morbid, but too natural, bursts of 
discontent and sadness. One looks back with 
unspeakable regret and gnawing remorse to such 
periods; fancying that had we been more alive 
to the nature of his feelings, and more attentive 
294 



ROME AND NAPLES 

to sootfio thorn, su(;h would not \\nv(' (;xist(;(l. 
And yr-fc, enjoying as he appeared to do, every 
sigfit or infhjcnee of eartfi or sky, it was diflieult 
to imagine l-hat any rnelaneholy lie showed was 
aug[il, hut tfie e(T(;et of the constant pain to 
whieh he was a rnarlyr." 

An Italian pfiysician, in factt,, lreat-(;d fiini, at 
this tifru', wiUi applications of caustic, for a 
disease of the liver from wFiich he was not 
suff(;ring. 'I'here an; eorr}y)laints of the ftffect of 
the couriter-irritant in his letters; and. there is 
no douht that he was, and for some time had been, 
suffering from some inflammation,' whicfi, at 
int' rvals, caused fiini acute pain. Yet, (;ven so, 
no one will helieve that pfiysical pain, and 
nothing f;ls(;, irispired thic Stanzas written in 
Dejection : — 

/ see the Deep's unlrampled floor 

Wilh ^reen and purple sea-weeds strown ; 
J see the waves upon the shore 

l/ike Hfihl dissolved in star-showers, thrown. 
I sit upon the sands alone. 

The lif>hlning of the noontide ocean 
Is flashinff, round me, and a tone 

Arises from its measured motion. 
How sweet ! Did any heart now share in my 
emotion ! 

' Shelley's symptoms are nof, described with sufficient 
preeision to permit of a eonlident dia«,'riosis of the ease. 
Ilis own view— tliat he was sufferin;^ from oe[)liritis — is 
irriprob;jf>l'-. His f>ains may, very possibly, only have been 
rheumatie in origin. 

295 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

Alas ! I have nor hope nor health. 

Nor peace within, nor calm around. 
Nor that content surpassing wealth 

The sage in meditation found, 
And walked with inward glory crowned, — 

Nor fame, nor power, nor love, nor leisure. 
Others I see whom these surround — 

Smiling they live and call life pleasure ; 
To me that cup has been dealt in another measure. 

Decidedly there is more there than distress 
caused by a pain in the side; and Mary herself 
begins a second paragraph with a second expla- 
nation : — 

" We lived in utter solitude. And such is not 
often the nurse of cheerfulness; for then, at 
least with those who have been exposed to 
adversity, the mind broods over its sorrows too 
intently; while the society of the enlightened, 
the witty, and the wise, enables us to forget 
ourselves by making us the sharers of the 
thoughts of others, which is a portion of the 
philosophy of happiness. . . . Had not a wall 
of prejudice been raised, at this time, between 
him and his countrymen, how many would have 
sought the acquaintance of one whom to know 
was to love and to revere ! How many of the 
more enlightened of his contemporaries have 
since regretted that they did not seek him ! 
how very few knew his worth while he lived ! 
and of those few several were withheld by 
296 



ROME AND NAPLES 

timidity or envy from declaring their sense 
of it." 

With which compare a letter of Shelley's, 
written from Rome, but equally applicable — 
probably even more applicable — to his circum- 
stances at Naples : — 

" We see no English society here ; it is not prob- 
able that we would if we desired it, and I am cer- 
tain that we should find it unsupportable. The 
manners of the rich English are wholly unsupport- 
able, and they assume pretensions which they 
would not venture upon in their own country." 

And, of course, there were reasons why admis- 
sion to English society — whether they would have 
found it insupportable or not — was difficult for 
them ; and those reasons were not exactly — at 
all events not solely — the reasons which Mary 
gives. She herself must have been the chief 
obstacle; for social prejudices are stronger than 
religious prejudices; and if Shelley had offended 
the latter, she had offended the former. He, from 
the point of view of the travelling English of 
those days, was only the brebis egare — and 
society has a tenderness for such; whereas 
Mary had never belonged to the exclusive flock. 
She was, from the point of view of that same 
society, a tradesman's daughter, who had been 
her husband's mistress before he married her : 
a woman, therefore, who could not be called upon. 

297 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

But a woman very anxious to be called upon : 
one for whom the society from which she was 
excluded had all the fascination of the unattain- 
able. She was the Peri at the gate of Paradise, 
— not merely disconsolate, but peevish; and one 
feels that Shelley's depression must have been, 
in a large measure, a reflection of hers. A man 
is never sadder than when the sight of a woman's 
discontent awakens him from dreams of a life 
which shall be like a fairy tale. 

Medwin, however, adds another explanation 
of the gloom ; — 

" The night before his departure from London, 
in 1814, he received a visit from a married lady, 
young, handsome, and of noble connections, and 
whose disappearance from the world of fashion 
in which she moved, may furnish, to those curious 
in such iniquities, a clue to her identity." 

The visitor had read Queen Mob, had fallen in 
love with the author of Queen Mab, and had 
come to declare her passion on the very eve of 
his elopement. She had renounced her husband, 
her name, her family, her friends; and she was 
" resolved after mature deliberation " to lay her 
fortune at Shelley's feet, and follow him through 
the world. He was moved — but of course it 
could not be. She acquiesced, but begged him 
to pity a heart torn by his indifference. She 
spoke of " blighted hopes, a life of loneliness, 
withered affections; " he replied that her image 
298 



MELANCHOLY AND THE CAUSE OF IT 

would never cease to be associated in his mind 
with " all that is noble, pure, generous, and 
lovely." They parted ; and Med win continues : — 

" This meeting, instead of extinguishing, only 
seemed to fan the flame in the bosom of the 
Incognita. This infatuated lady followed him to 
the Continent. He had given her a clue to his 
place of destination, Geneva. She traced him to 
Secheron — used to watch him with her glass in 
his water parties on the lake. On his return to 
England, he thought she had long forgotten 
him; but her constancy was untired. During 
his journey to Rome and Naples, she once lodged 
with him at the same hotel, en route, and finally 
arrived at the latter city the same day as himself. 

" He must have been more or less than man 
to have been unmoved by the devotedness of 
this unfortunate and infatuated lady. At Naples, 
he told me that they met, and when he learnt 
from her all those particulars of her wanderings, 
of which he had been previously ignorant; and 
at Naples — she died." 

The story has sometimes been waved on one 
side as a figment of Shelley's luxuriant imagi- 
nation; and that it is true in the exact form in 
which Medwin reports it is, indeed, improbable. 
But Mr. Rossetti says that he got a partial con- 
firmation of it from Miss Clairmont, who declared 
that she had seen the lady in question, and even 
knew her name; and one inclines to think that 

299 



TIIK KOAIANTIC T-TFE OF SHKT-T,KV 

I\Ied>vin's elaborate lietion nmst liave been, in 
some undiseovevnble May, based upon a faet. 
Mary's peevishness at the siu'ial boyet>tt would 
have made Shelley more, rather than less, sen- 
sible to a fresh sentimental attraction. The 
passion of a stranger who was not peevish— who 
professed eai::erness to faee the social boycott, 
with her eyes open, for his sake — may well 
have tilled his mind, for a little while, with the 
thouijht that thini^s miojht have been, and ouofht 
to have been, other than they were. And if the 
dream ended suddenly — and tragically then the 
Stanzas written in Dejection wouUl be more 
plausibly explained than by Mary's suggestion 
that they were due to an application of caustic 
for an imaginary disorder. 

^ledwin believed the tragedy to have inspired 
these other lines : — 

IliU'itt'fi to thi' bridal bed ! 
Vndenu\iih thf tiravt' lis spread ! 
In darkness niai/ our lore be hid. 
Oblivion be our coverlid ! 
We niaij rest, and )ione forbid. 

Kiss me ! Oh ! my lips are cold ! 
Round my neck thine arms enfold. 
'They are soft — yet chill and dead. 
And thy tears upon my heart 
Burn like points of frozen lead. 

But that is only Med win's conjecture — wiietlier 
800 



MKLANCIIOLY AND TIIK CAUSE OF VV 

trij(; or l';i,ls(! oik- <-iuii\<>\, s;j.y. Oru: (Jor;s nol even 
know whether the rriystery is related t;o another 
rnysU ry whieli fx lon^H to the same period, ;i.nd 
ultiniafcely made a ringing seandal tfirouf^h tiic 
tallc of Mary's Swiss maid and Shelley's Italian 
valet, Paolo. 

Paolo was pressed by the Shelleys to marry 
Elisc — to '■ make her an honest woman " ; and 
he was also dismissed from the Sh(;lleys' service 
for dishonesty. lie-, submitted to marriage with 
a tranquil mind; but he resented his dismissal, 
and vowed to be avenged, or, if not t(i be 
avenged, then to extort bhu^kmail. A lett^-r 
from Shelley to the Gisbomes, who had gone to 
London, gives us our first glimpse of Paolo at 
work, and our first hir»t of the eireurnstances 
whieh furnished him with a handle : — 

" My poor little Nea]')olitan, J hear, has a 
severe attack of dentition, f suppose she will 
die and leave another memory t<^ thom which 
aln-ady torture me. . . . Domestic peace; I 
might have — I may have — if I see you I shall 
have — but have not, for Mary suffers dreadfully 
about the state of Godwin's circumstances. I 
am very nervous, but better in general health. 
We have had a most infernal business with 
Paolo, whom, however, we iiave succeeded in 
crushing. . . . 

" I have later news of my Neapolitan. I have 
taken every possible precaution for her, and 

301 



TlIF, KOMANTIC MFK OF SITFM.KV 

hope that thov Nvill siu'cood. Slu^ is io cou\c to 
lis as soon ns she rtwniTs. . . . 

'* ^ly Noapi^litnn charge is deaih It seems as 
if the destruetion that is eonsuiwing me were 
as an atmosphere whieli Nvrapt ami injcctrd 
cverytluni; eonneeted with me. Tliat rascal 
Paolo has heen taking advantaije of my situation 
at Naples in Diven\ber. Iv^lv^. to attempt to 
extort money by tlireatening to chargi^ me with 
the n\ost hiMTible crimes. lU^ is connected witli 
some Fngiisli liere (at Lci^ihorn'^. who liate me 
with a ferviMir that almost doi-s ereilit to their 
phlegmatic brains, and listen to and vent the 
most prodigious falseho^xis." 

It is very vague. All that appears is that 
Shelley has a particular interest in an infant, at 
the teething st^ige, at \aples--and that Mary 
knows all about it, and is prepared to receive 
the infant — and that something happened at 
Naples on which an uncharitable construction 
could be placed. l\u>lo seems to have been 
temporarily frightenetl into quiescence by a 
lawyer's letter: but he talked or he induced 
Elisc to talk. A year later, when visiting Hynm 
at Ravenna, Shelley heard what he. or Flise on 
his behalf, had said. The lloppnei-s. who had 
been very kind to them at Venice, had annoimecd 
their intention of having nothing more to do 
with them on account of *' a story so monstrous 
and incredible that they nuist have been prone 
30-J 



JANK (XAIKMONT'S r/)Vf': TOR SHKLLKY 

f,o \k\](:vc ;i.riy fvil to li.'ivf: hf;)J';V('.<J siicf) ;iSKcr- 
fjons ijf)on such cvirlcncc " : - 

" KIJHC says that (>lajrf: was my rnistrcHs; that 
is all very well, and so far there if* notFiing new; 
;i.ll the world has heard no nriueh, and pftopic rrjay 
[)f;]ievo or believe; not as they think (/ood. She, 
tfien proef;f;ds to say that Clain- was with r-hild 
by me ; that J gave, fier the most violent rnerJi(;ine 
to produee, abortion; tfuit, this not sueeeedinj^, 
she was brought to bed, and that J irnmf;diatf:ly 
tore the ehild from her and sr;nt it to the Found- 
ling IIosf>it;i,l. . . . Jn addition, she says that 
botFi 1 uiui ('laire IrcnUA you in the most sharne- 
liil manner, that I negleetrtd ;i.nd beat you, and 
that (^lain; never let a day pass without off'-ring 
you insults of the most violent kind, in which 
she was abettr^d by me." 

That is the form in which Shelley reported the 
scandal to Mary, tfie probability is strong that 
his heated imagination fiad heightened its colour. 
Mary, at Shelley's instance, wrote to Mr«. 
Iloppner, repudiating \}>(: r;alumnies with an 
equal indignation. Klise, charged with having 
uttered them, denied that sfjc fiad done so, or 
that there was any basis for them. But, in 
Mary's letter U) Shelley, eovering the letter to 
Mrs. Iloppner, there are these significant sen- 
tences : " IJo not think me imprudent in men- 
tioning Claire's illness at Naples. It is well to 
meet facts." And the letter, as printed in the 

803 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

biographies, contains no reference whatever to 
any illness — as though Mary had changed her 
mind, and thought it better not to mention it 
after all. 

What, then, are the facts which Mary first 
thought it " well to meet," but afterwards — if 
there has been no tampering with the text of her 
letter — decided to ignore ? Our only hint is 
contained in those Chats with Jane Clairmonty 
by Mr. Graham, from which so many quotations 
have already been taken. The conversation had 
turned on Byron's refusal to surrender Allegra : — 

" ' Of course,' she went on, ' there was a reason 
that Byron used as an excuse for his vile conduct 
in thus robbing me of my child. That vile note 
at the foot of my letter to him, which he sent 
on to Hoppner, and which has since been un- 
earthed, explains it. But it was a lie.' 

'* As I made no reply, she continued, ' I 
presume that you think there can be no smoke 
without fire ? Well, I will tell you the whole 
truth now, and you may judge for yourself.' 

" Nothing more, however, shall be written by 
me on this subject, so highly distasteful to me, 
until 1909, and not even then, had not Miss 
Clairmont requested me to give what I know 
to the world after the lapse of time before 
mentioned." 

There is a further note on the subject in Mr. 
Graham's Preface : — 
304 



JANE CLAIRMONT'S LOVE FOR SHELLEY 

" Shelley's indignation, if you will kindly refer 
to his letter, was not caused by the suggestion 
that he might be on terms of greater intimacy 
with Miss Clairmont than is desirable in a well- 
regulated household, but by the suggestion that 
she had had a child by him which had been sent 
to the Florence Foundling, and this was quite a 
mistake, so far in any case as Shelley was con- 
cerned. The rights of the story are known to 
myself, and I do not intend to say anything 
further thereon until 1901, when, owing to the 
publication of the Hobhouse Memoirs, I shall be 
at liberty to deal with Clairmont matters in 
full, eight years earlier than my promise to the 
lady would otherwise have permitted me." 

The Hobhouse Memoirs have appeared, and 
have revealed nothing. We are now in 1911 ; 
and the fresh light promised has not yet been 
thrown. The mystery remains mysterious. 
Whether Miss Clairmont had an adventure at 
Naples in which Shelley played no part except 
that of guarding her secret; whether the Nea- 
politan infant — supposed by Professor Dowden 
to have been the ward bequeathed to Shelley by 
his Inconnue — was in any way related to that 
adventure; whether Shelley knew more of that 
adventure than was known to Mary : — these 
things are riddles, and might still hold an element 
of doubt, even if we had Mr. Graham's report of 
Miss Clairmont's statement. 

But two things are clear. Mary had no know- 
u 305 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

ledge of any circumstance which could shake her 
faith in Shelley's loyalty to herself. Shelley 
still found it impossible to escape from the thorns 
of life to the peace of dreamland. Life pursued 
him, clutching at him, and clinging to him, and 
harassing him. He was not like other people; 
but he had to live in the same world as other 
people; and the same things happened to him 
as to other people, — and hurt him more than they 
hurt other people, because of his failure to realize 
the life about him until it disturbed him and 
forced itself on his attention. 



306 



CHAPTER XXVII 

AT PISA— EMILIA VIVIANI 

From Rome Shelley came north to Leghorn, 
arriving in June, and remaining until November, 
when he went to Florence, where he stayed until 
he moved to Pisa, in February, 1820. He took 
a villa in the outskirts of Leghorn, and, in a study 
which he contrived on the roof, wrote The 
Cenci and began Prometheus. His melancholy 
did not leave him, however, and his life continued 
to be solitary. Practically his only friends were 
the Gisbornes, whose friendship was not quite dis- 
interested. Mrs. Gisborne's son, Henry Reveley, 
proposed to build a steamer to ply between 
Leghorn and Marseilles; and Shelley was asked 
to finance the adventure. Marine engineer- 
ing appealed to him as a kind of poetry — a 
magical stretching of hands across the seas to 
promote the comity of nations; and he entered 
into the scheme with enthusiasm, though it came 
to nothing. 

Another enterprise which brought him into 
contact with the hard facts of real life was his 
attempt to procure the production of The Cenci 
at Covent Garden, with Miss O'Neill in the 
principal part, and his letters on the subject 
illustrate his naive inability to realize actual 
u 2 307 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

conditions. He considers the question whether 
incest " would be admitted on the stage," and 
concludes that " it will form no objection," 
because the story of The Cenci is true, and has 
been treated with " peculiar delicacy." Peacock 
was asked to submit those considerations to the 
Covent Garden Management; but of course he 
submitted them in vain. Mr. Harris of Covent 
Garden declared the subject of the piece so 
objectionable that he could not even let Miss 
O'Neill read it; whereupon Shelley protested 
that the theatre had " rejected it with ex- 
pressions of the greatest insolence," that he 
regarded it as " singularly fitted for the stage," 
and that as for Mr. Harris's motives in declining 
it, he can imagine none unless it be that he 
"has guessed at the author." 

At the same time an article in the Quarterly 
attacked his character as well as his poetry. He 
read it in a public reading-room at Florence, 
and was seen to burst into scofhng laughter over 
the bathos of the reviewer's peroration ; but the 
laughter, as his letters show, was more bitter 
than merry. It led him into a correspondence, 
from which some quotations have been given, 
with Southey, whom he believed to be the author 
of the review, though it is now known to have 
been the work of his old schoolfellow and College 
contemporary, John Taylor Coleridge — a writer 
who afterwards employed his talents to better 
advantage by writing the Life of Keble. 

His ill health, too, continued, and there was 
308 



AT PISA 

intermittent discord between Mary and Jane, 
and the usual trouble with Godwin. The way 
of that needy philosopher was to ask for a large 
sum of money, and then, if he only received a 
part of the sum he asked for, to regard the 
remainder as the balance of an overdue account, 
and to dun for payment of it in the offensive 
style of a debt collector. Without even thank- 
ing Shelley for what he had already given, he 
clamoured for more, treating his benefactor as 
he might have treated a man who had lost to 
him at cards and would not pay. Nor was he 
content to address his reproaches to Shelley 
himself. He also complained to Mary of Shelley's 
selfishness ; and Mary became more and more 
melancholy, and more and more peevish. He 
called Shelley " a disgraceful and flagrant person ;" 
and Shelley, writing to Leigh Hunt, commented 
bitterly : — 

" I suspect my character, if measured with 
his, would sustain no diminution among those 
who know us both. I have bought bitter know- 
ledge with £4,700. I wish it were all yours 
now." 

Thus business unceasingly broke in upon the 
dream of self-realization in the sunshine ; and 
cries, not merely of anger, but of anguish, found 
utterance in Shelley's letters, — especially those 
written to Peacock, with whom he discussed 
the prospects of his return to England : — 

309 



THK ROMANTIC TJFE OF SITKIJ.KY 

'"'■ 1 ht'licvc, my dcuv Vcnvock, lluil. you wish 
lis to come hack to Kiii>laiul, How is it possible ? 
llciillli, compctenee, tran(|uillity-- all these Italy 
permits, and h'.n«vln,n(l lakes away. 1 am 
reoaidid by all who know or hear of me, except, 
1 Hunk, on the whole, live individuals, as a rare 
])rodioy of crime and ])ollulion, whose look even 
mijjfht int'eel. This is a laroc com])uta.tion, and 
I don'l. linuk I eouid mention more than three. 
Such is Ihe spirit of the Kn<^lish abroad as well 
as at home. 

" Few compensate, indeed, lor all the rest, 
and if I were dlonr, I should laujijh." 

Rul how shall a man laui;h at the social })oycott, 
when a peevish woman, to whom it means nuich 
more than to hinj, is alwaAs beside him whinintj; 
about it ? Shelley could not; and the regret for 
Fin<;laiid and ils social amenilies soon reappears: — 

*■' I mosl devoutly wish I were livin<»- near 
London. . . . Social (Mijoymenl, in sonic form 
or ollur, is the alpha and ome«>a of existence. 
All t hat I see in Italy and fron» my tower windows 
1 now see the ma|»nilicenl peaks of the Apeimines 
half cnclosino" the plain — is nothini*; it dwindles 
into smoke in Ihe mind, when I think of some 
familiar forms of scenery, lillle |)erha[)s in Ihem- 
selv(\s, over which old remembrances have thrown 
a delightful colour. How we prize what we 
des[)ised when presenl ! So Ihe ^vhosts of our 
dead associations rise and liaunt us, in revenue 
810 



AT IMSA 

for oiii- having let them starve, and abandoned 
tlieni lo iKM-isli."" 

There is no eheerlulness in IhnI, Idler, vvrillcn 
ei|j[hLe('n rnonLhs al'lci- I lie airivaJ in Italy. Shelley, 
eonlronled perpel.ually hy Mary's "'depression of 
spirits," eonid see wo hope oi" (rheerlnlness unless 
his I'ew rjiilhiiil MiioJish Iriends would eoine out 
to him. Iiei«rh Hunt, Ilo/^o', Peacock, ;uid IIor:i,ce 
Smith were all invited in vnin; l)nl. life, neverllu'- 
iess, hrjnrhlcned soiru^what at Pisa. The hirlli oi" 
Percy l^'loi-encc Shelley- — tlu; only one ol" Mjiry's 
three children who j^ievv up — -relieved her dejeclion 
in some, albeil only a slight-, dcgi'cc. A wise 
friend, L.uly lMonnl.(uishe]l, discerning the lack 
ol' harmony in I he household, p(^rsua,de(J Miss 
(/lairmont to .iccci)! a posl as governess in the 
family ol" a FlorenI ine professor. Shelley's cousin, 
Tom Medwin, who had been in I he army and in 
India, and was now home on ;i loose end, turned 
up. 

Mary, it. is true, did not like Medwin. At tJie t ime 
she (;all(rd him a, " f)ore " ; and she a,(*(MJse(l hiiu, 
in later y<Nirs, ol' borrowing " ciowns which wc. 
could ill spare"; but Mary's crit,i(tisms of her 
friends were rarely kind. Of the only lady who 
was polite to tier, in spite of the social boycolL, 
at ilome, she wrote that she was '' v(;ry old, very 
miserly, arid very rnean " ; and her judgments 
are, as a, rule, to be discount,("(l. ''{'Ik; man who 
amiably l)orrr»ws an occtasionaJ crown is, at- a,ny 
rate, a preferable companion to the man who surlily 

811 



THE ROI^IANTIC LIFE OF SHELT.EV 

borrows £4,700; and Medwin, borrower or not, 
was a hero-worshipper. He had discovered liis 
cousin's genius from a '' remaindered " copy of 
Laon and Cythna which he had seen in India; 
and he now gave l\is cousin the companionship 
of a man of taste and culture, if not of great 
ability. That nuist have been helpful to ^lary 
as well as Shelley ; and Medwin's arrival coincides 
with the widening of the social circle. 

It was not nuieh of a circle. Matthew Arnold's 
famous exclamation : '' \Vhat a set !" is as applic- 
able to it as to the set of which Godwin was the 
central luminary. I^ady ^lountcashell, in whose 
father's house Clary's mother had once been a 
governess, was separated from her husband, and 
was living conjugally with a Mr. Tighe, under 
the assumed name of ^lason. Count Taaffe was 
an Irish poetaster whose claims to the title which 
he used are not very clear. Signt)r Sgricci was 
only an iniprovisatore. Signor Pacchiani, a friar 
who ought to have been unfrocked, lived in 
an equivocal fashion on his wits, and is pilloried 
by INIary, with her usual amiability, as having 
" disgusted Shelley by telling a dirty story." In 
fact, the only quite reputable member of the 
society seems to have been Prince Mavrocordato, 
who was presently to give his proofs in the Greek 
Revolution, and now taught IMary the Greek 
language, and inspired Shelly to write Hellas. 
And then there was Emilia Viviani, who will be 
for ever famous because she inspired Epipsyckidion, 

Emilia was the daughter by his lirst wife of 
312 



EMILIA VIVIANI 

a Count Viviarii who [lad married, en secondes 
noces, a lady of about his daughter's age. The 
wife, being jealous of the daughter's beauty, had 
sent her to a eonvent — half pension, fialf boarding- 
school. There she was to be detained —never 
allowed to walk farther than the convent garden, 
which was about the size of a modern lawn tennis 
court — until a suitor should be found willing to 
marry her without a dowry. But such suitors are 
rare in Italy, so that the quest was likely to be 
long, and Emilia herself to be an old maid before 
it ended. 

Pacehiani told the Shelleys about her : — 

" Poverina," he said with a deep sigh, " she pines 
like a bird in a cage — ardently longs to escape 
from her prison-house — pines with ennui, and 
wanders about the corridors like an unquiet 
spirit; she sees her young days glide on without 
an aim or purpose. She was made for love. 
Yesterday she was watering some flowers in her 
cell — she has nothing else to love but her flowers — 
' Yes,' said she, addressing tfiem, ' you are born 
to vegetate, but we thinking beings were made 
for action — not to be penned up in a comer or 
set at a window to blow and die.' " 

That was enough for Shelley. Life had been 
very tedious of late, and here was real romance, 
— a real damsel in a real distress. Something 
must be done for her — and done at once. Pac- 
ehiani must introduce him. Medwin must also 

313 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

be introduced. Mary must call ou Eiuilia. Jane 
Clairniont must call. As many people as possible 
must eall. And so they did, and found that 
Emilia was, indeed, as beautiful as she was 
unfortunate : — 

" Her profuse black hair, tied in the most simple 
knot, after the manner of a Greek Muse in the 
Florence gallery, displayed to its full height her 
brow, fair as that of the marble of which I speak. 
She was also of about the same height as the 
antique. Her features possessed a rare faultless- 
ness, and almost German (? Grecian) contour, the 
nose and forehead making a straight line, — a 
style of face so rare that I remember l^artolini's 
telling Byron that he had scarcely seen an instance 
of such in the numerous casts of busts which 
his studio contained. Her eyes had the sleepy 
voluptuousness, if not the colour, of Beatrice 
Cenci's. . . . Her cheek was pale, too, as marble, 
owing to her confmement and want of air, or 
perhaps to ' thought.' " 

So Medwin, ilowing on in his characteristic 
style : and Professor Dowden gravely sums up 
the matter thus : — 

" Of a sudden three persons had fallen in love 
with Emilia — Mary, Claire, and Shelley. In 
Mary's regard there was, indeed, a moderating 
good sense which to Emilia at times appeared 
to have a touch of coldness in it. Yet Mary's 
314 



EMILIA VIVIANI 

visits to the convent were frequent, and grew more 
frequent as the weeks went by. " 

Which is a very charitable way of putting it, 
but hardly a way which deals out even-handed 
justice among the parties. Shelley and Mary 
and Jane no doubt began the acquaintance with 
a simultaneous outburst of sympathy for the 
victim of Italian customs and parental tyranny; 
but the few documents at our disposal show their 
sentiments quickly diverging in three different 
directions : Jane amused ; Mary critical and 
suspicious; Shelley under a spell which he finds 
temporarily irresistible. 

Not that there was any " affair " in the common 
sense of the word. The " convent's narrow 
room " was much too narrow for that; and only 
once, so far as is known, were Shelley and Emilia 
alone together outside the convent. Nor can 
one even say that Shelley found in Emilia merits 
which he had failed to find in Mary. He fully 
recognized that fact himself after the spell was 
broken — fully recognized that Emilia was, in 
vulgar parlance, " a fraud." But the spell, in 
order to be broken, had first to exist. It never 
existed for any one but him; but, while it did 
exist, Emilia seemed to satisfy an ic'cal which 
Mary failed to satisfy, and Shelley dreamed a 
dream in which Mary only figured in a subsidiary 
part. In Epipsychidion, where much is obscure, 
it is at least clear that Mary figures as the Moon 
— beautiful, but of an icy coldness ; whereas : — 

315 



TTTK ROMANTIC LIFE OF SITKLLEY 

So/t f/,v an Jncarnatloti oj the Sim, 

When li^ht is chdni^rd to love, I his ffJorioiis One 

Floated into the eavern xvherc I lai/. 

And ealled my spirit, and the dreaming clay 

Was lifted hif the thinii that dreamed below 

As smoke hi I fire, and in her beauty's f^loxv 

1 stood, and felt the dawn oj my lon<^ ni<^ht 

Was penetrating me xvith living light : 

I knew it was the vision veiled from me 

So many years — that it zvas Emily. 

And tlicn the appeal which every lover of poetry 
knows by heart : — 

Emilys 

A ship is floating in the harbour nozVy 

A wind is hovering o'er the mountains" brorv ; 

There is a path on the sea's azure floor, 

No keel htis ever ploughed that path before: 

The haleyons brood around the foamless isles; 

The treaeherous Oeean has forsworn its wiles ; 

The merry mariners are bold and free : 

Say, my heart's sister, wilt thou sail with me ? 

As a matter of sober prose, of course, tliere was 
no ship waitin<r in the hnrbour to take these parti- 
cular j)assengers to any land where it would be 
always sunnnor, or always nfternoon, -where the 
dream would be everylhin<jf and the business 
nothinijr. It does not appear that Emilia hoped 
for, or that Mary feared, any actual {)roposal 
to elope. But that Mary was " in love " with 



EMILIA VIVIANI 

Krnilia, and vvus picascul, as Professor Dowdcn 
seems to think, thai Emilia rather tlian herself 
moved Shelley l.o the worship of Absl.niel Heaiity, 
and subhine Uioiij^dils of the ('otriinunion of Souls, 
is what one finds it, very dillieult to believe. 
Mary was very feminine, and even a little felin(;; 
and the situation was one to eal! out iier fcMniiiinc 
attributes. Four extracts from four Icliers may 
help us to rend her mind a little more aeeurately 
than Professor Dowden read it : — 

*' Yesterd.'iy ni^'ht," Emilijt, writes to Mary, 
" Claire related to me part of his history. His 
many misfortunes, his unjust persecutions, and 
his firm innate virtue in the midst of these terrible 
and unmerited sorrows, filled my heart with 
admiration and al'f(;ction, and made me think, 
and perhaps not untruly, that he is not a human 
creature; he has only a human exterior, but the 
interior is all divine. The Hein^ of all things has 
doubtless sent him to (;arth to accredit virtue 
and to give an exact image of himself." 

" My conception of Emilia's talents," Sfu^Iey 
writes to Jane, " augments every day. Her 
moral nature is fine, but not above circumstan(;es; 
yet I think her tender and true, whi(;li is always 
something, llow many are only one of these 
things at a time ! " 

'* Mary does not write to me," Emilia complains 
to Shelley. "Is it possible that she loves me 

817 



THE ROIMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

less than the others do ? I should be very nuich 
pained by that. I wish to flatter myself tliat it 
is her only son and her oeeiipations which cause 
this. Is not this the ease ? " 

" You seem to me a little cold sometimes," 
Emilia protested to iMar>% " and that causes an 
uncomfortable feeling; but I know that your 
husband said well when lie saitl that your apparent 
coldness is only the asli ivliich covers an a(jcdionaie 
1i£artr 

Those passages arc the keys which unlock the 
situation. Let any woman judge for herself 
whether Mary is likely to have been pleased to 
hear another woman, more beautiful than herself, 
speak of her husband as the image of the divine 
— whether she is likely to have felt a warmer 
affection for Emilia than she displayed — whether 
the frequency of her visits to Emilia in her convent 
is likely to have been due to any other motive 
than a desire to keep a close watch n[H>n what 
must have struck her as a flirtation franght with 
possibilities perilous to her peace. 

She watched the danger till it passed; and it 
passed quickly. The Emilia who had inspired 
Epipsuchidiou was not the real Emilia but an 
Emilia created by Shelley's imagination. The 
real Emilia introduced business into the dream 
by borrowing money. The real Emilia accepted 
the husband provideil for her, and, as Mary, with 
her genius for saying unpleasant things, put it, 
318 



KMIIJA VIVIANI 

" led him a devil of a life." Sliellcy himself 
awoke from this dream, and admitted that his 
disillusion was eomplete : — 

" The Epipsychidion,'' he wrote to Gishorne, " I 
eannot look at; the person whom it celebrates was 
a cloud instead of a Juno; and poor Ixion starts 
from the centaur that was the offspring of his own 
embrace. If you are curious, liowever, to fiear 
what 1 am and have been, it will tell you something 
thereof. It is an idealised history of my life and 
feelings. I think one is always in love with some- 
thing or otljcr; the error and 1 confess it is not 
easy for spirits cased in flesh and blood to avoid 
it — consists in seeking in a mortal image the like- 
ness of what is, perfiaps, eternal." 

That is all ; and perhaps the letter tells us more 
even of Shelley's life and feelings than the poem, 
being vastly easier to understand. He was 
" always in love with something or other." Per- 
haps he w(^uld have said that he could not have 
loved Mary so much, had he not loved Emilia 
more. The woman, it is to be feared, has not 
yet been born who would have been an ideal 
companion for fiim. The letter, more explicitly 
tfian Epipsychidion, sets forth that Mary was 
not such a one. He knew it, and she knew it also, 
and in the end she blamed herself. One is 
brought to that note at last, whether it properly 
arises out of the story of Emilia Viviani or not. 



310 



CHAPTER XXVIII 

MARY'S (ONFESSION OF FAILURE 

Mary's confession of failure is contained in 
the Poem which she wrote on Shelley's death : — 

Oh, gentle Spirit, tJiou hast often sung 

How fallen on evil days thy heart zvas ivrung ; 

Noic fieree remorse and unre plying death 

Waken a ehord ivithin my heart, :vhose breath. 

Thrilling and keen, in accents audible, 

A tale of unrequited love doth tell. 

It was not anger, — ivhile thy earthly dress 

Encompassed still thy souVs rare loveliness. 

All anger zvas atoned by many a kind 

Caress or tear, that spoke the softened mind. — 

// speaks of cold neglect, averted eyes, 

That blindly crushed thy souVs fond sacrifice : — 

My heart was all thine own, — but yet a shell 

Closed in its core, which seemed impenetrable. 

Till sharp-toothed misery tore the husk in twain. 

Which gaping lies, nor may unite again. 

Forgive me ! 

That is as formal as one can expect a confes- 
sion in verse to be. It is a new rendering of the 
old lament : Mea culpa ! Mea culpa ! Peccavi. 
Benedicite ! Mary had sulked and been peevish ; 
320 



MARY'S CONFESSION OF FAILURE 

she owned it and repented. If only she had 
foreseen ! TFiat is the plain prose of the cry over 
the body whieh the pitiless sea washed up. There 
is an entry in Mary's Journal, dated on Shelley's 
last birthday, which should be read in connec- 
tion with it : — 

" Seven years are now gone ; what changes ! 
what a life ! We now appear tranquil, yet who 
knows what wind — but I will not prognosticate 
evil; we have had enough of it. When Shelley 
came to Italy I said, all is well if it were per- 
manent; it was more passing than an Italian 
twilight. I now say the same. May it be a 
polar day, yet that, too, has an end." 

And, for further ligiit, we may turn to a letter 
of Shelley's — one of the last letters which he 
wrote : — 

" Italy is more and more delightful to me. 
... I only feel the want of those who can feel 
and understand me. Whether from proximity 
and the continuity of domestic intercourse, Mary 
cannot. ... It is the curse of Tantalus that 
a person possessing such excellent powers and 
so pure a mind as hers should not excite the 
sympathy indispensable to their application to 
domestic life." 

The three passages fit together like the pieces 

of a Chinese puzzle. One could easily find other 

passages which would complicate the puzzle in 

X 321 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

appearance, without really altering it. The 
resulting picture, in any case, is of a marriage 
which husband and wife independently admit to 
have brought them less happiness than they had 
hoped for. The admission is clear; nnd it only 
remains to consider how much or how little we 
will make of it. 

Something we must make; and no doubt 
Trelawny, though personally disposed to make 
too much of it, gives us our clue. He shows us a 
Shelley who dwelt in the clouds, and a ]\Iary 
who was of the earth, earthy; a Mary who was 
at heart a Martha, but an incompetent Martha, 
— a Martha whose house-keeping was of a 
Bohemian amateurishness; a Mary whose love 
of poetry and philosophy was as nothing beside 
her passion for being received in good society; 
a Mary who even " affected the pious dodge " and 
attended the ministrations of the English chap- 
lain — a chaplain who seized the opportunity to 
preach against her husband — in the hope of 
inducing society to open its arms to her. 

If we start with that, and then discount it 
liberally — remembering that Trelawny was an 
impetuous partisan who did not weigh his words 
— we shall probably have a fair presentation of 
the case from Shelley's point of view. The 
" pious dodge," at any rate, is no figment of 
Trelawny's imagination. Mary, taxed with it, 
admitted it, albeit with a plea of extenuating 
circumstances : she had only tried it once a 
month, not once a week as had been alleged, 
322 



MARY'S CONFESSION OF FAILURE 

and even so only " for good neighbourhood's 
sake," and because the chaplain had politely 
expressed the hope that he would see her at his 
services. A small offence truly : very small 
indeed when we set it side by side with the 
offence which Shelley committed when, on his 
return from bathing, he crossed his wife's dining- 
room, on his way to his bed-room, without even 
a bathing-dress to cover him, regardless that his 
wife was giving a dinner-party at the time, and, 
instead of vanishing, when he discovered the 
presence of guests, stood still to offer explanations 
and excuses. 

The two stories should certainly be read to- 
gether, for extremes meet in them. They not 
merely illustrate, but typify, a clashing conflict of 
ideals; and the majority of unbiassed readers 
will probably agree that Shelley's rebellion against 
the conventions was at least as exaggerated as 
Mary's subservience to them. Even those who 
lay most stress upon the title of genius to its 
eccentricities will realize that there were obstacles 
to the maintenance of perfect harmony between 
a husband so careless of decorum and a wife 
who served God and Mammon simultaneously 
in her Sunday silks. That the lute should be 
quite without rifts in such a case is almost 
unimaginable. 

As matter of fact, it certainly had more rifts 

than one. As Shelley had outgrown Harriet, 

so also had he outgrown Mary, — intellectually, 

emotionally, and morally. Even when she 

X 2 323 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

studied Greek — even when she studied mathe- 
matics — she was anxious and troubled about 
many things : anxious for comfort, and well- 
cut gowns, and becoming bonnets; anxious for 
the removal of the social boycott, and for tea- 
parties, and the common lot of esteemed matrons 
of the respectable middle-classes. Let it be 
granted that these are good things and desirable. 
The fact nevertheless remains that, when a poet 
idealizes a woman, he does so in the belief that 
she looks above and beyond them, — and that, 
when he knows that she does not look above and 
beyond them, he ceases to idealize her, and is 
apt to idealize other women whom he does not 
know so well. 

That is how Shelley came to idealize Emilia 
Viviani — whom he found out; that is how he 
came to idealize Jane Williams — whom he did 
not live to find out. Mary, no doubt, saw what 
was happening, and behaved in the way for 
which she afterwards expressed remorse. But 
there was no actual estrangement — only a cool- 
ing of ardour and an occasional misunder- 
standing. A few of Shelley's phrases reported 
by Trelawny seem to give us the measure of the 
trouble : — 

" Poor Mary ! hers is a sad fate. Come along ; 
she can't bear solitude nor I society — ^the quick 
coupled with the dead." 

And then, again, when Trelawny pointed out 
824 



MARY'S CONFESSION OF FAILURE 

a jealous wife, who excused her jealousy on the 
ground of " excess of love " : — 

" Shelley answered : — 

" ' Love is not akin to jealousy ; love does not 
seek its own pleasures, but the happiness of 
another. Jealousy is gross selfishness; it looks 
upon every one who approaches as an enemy : 
it is the idolatry of self, and, like canine madness, 
incurable.' 

" His eyes flashed as he spoke. I did not then 
know that the green-eyed monster haunted his 
own house." 

No more than that — and perhaps not even 
quite so much. For years after Shelley's death, 
Mary lived on terms of close intimacy with Jane 
Williams. She did not quarrel with her until 
Jane, then married to Hogg, made the foolish 
and unworthy boast that Shelley had loved her 
better than he loved Mary; and that would 
hardly have happened if the green-eyed monster 
had appeared in any very formidable shape. 
And Shelley's letters to Mary remain affectionate 
until the last, — though it is true that he wrote 
affectionate letters to other women also. There 
was a moment, within a year of the end, when 
he faced the question whether he should take 
a still further flight from society, and live 
out the rest of his life absolutely alone with 
Mary. 

It was at the time of his visit to Byron at 

325 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

Ravenna — a visit already mentioned in con- 
nection with the calumny spread about Shelley 
and Miss Clairmont. He had left Mary at Pisa; 
and their future movements were uncertain. 
Florence had been talked of; there were strong 
arguments in favour of Florence ; but : — 

" My greatest content would be utterly to 
desert all human society. I would retire with 
you and our child to a solitary island in the sea, 
and shut upon my retreat the flood-gates of the 
world. I would read no reviews and talk with 
no authors. If I dared trust my imagination, it 
would tell me that there are one or two chosen 
companions besides yourself whom I should 
desire. But to this I would not listen — where 
two or three are gathered together, the devil is 
among them. And good, far more than evil, 
impulses, love, far more than hatred, has been 
to me, except as you have been its object, the 
source of all sorts of mischief. So on this plan, 
I would be alone, and would devote, either to 
oblivion, or to future generations, the over- 
flowings of a mind which, timely withdrawn 
from the contagion, should be kept for no baser 
object." 

It is the reappearance of the dream of the 
escape from life — not coupled with any thought 
of an escape from Mary. Perhaps the thought 
came as a counsel of despair rather than of hope ; 
but still it came. Most likely it was for Mary's 
826 



MARY'S CONFESSION OF FAILURE 

sake, even more than for his own, that Shelley 
dismissed it. This is how he goes on i^^ 

" The other side of the alternative (for a 
medium ought not to be adopted) is to form for 
ourselves a society of our own class, as much as 
possible in intellect or in feelings ; and to connect 
ourselves with the interests of that society. Our 
roots never struck so deeply as at Pisa, and the 
transplanted tree flourishes not* People who 
lead the lives which we led until last winter are 
like a family of Wahabee Arabs, pitching their 
tent in the midst of London. We must do one 
thing or the other — for yourself, for our child, 
for our existence. The calumnies, the source of 
which are probably deeper than we perceive, 
have ultimately for object the depriving us of 
the means of security and subsistence. You will 
easily perceive the gradations by which calumny 
proceeds to pretext, pretext to persecution, and 
persecution to the ban of fire and water. It is 
for this, and not because this or that fool, or the 
whole court of fools curse and rail, that calumny 
is worth refuting or chastising." 

Which means that Byron is coming to Pisa 
with the Guiccioli, and that there will be a set 
of a sort in which Mary as well as Shelley will be 
able to have a recognized social status. It will 
not mean exactly the removal of the social boy- 
cott; but it will, at least, mean the creation of 
circumstances in which the social boycott will 

327 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

no longer matter much, — will perhaps matter no 
more than it mattered in that happy summer 
when the respectable people in the Geneva hotel 
spied on the outlaws in the villas through the 
telescope which their landlord had set up for 
them. 

And so, most naturally, the vote was cast for 
Pisa ; and Shelley engaged a better lodging there, 
and entered upon the most tranquil time of his 
tameless and swift career. 



328 



CHAPTER XXIX 

TRELAVVN^'S NOTES ON THE LIFE AT PISA 

The pillar of the Pisa set was, of course, 
Byron. He was the only one of them whose 
name was widely known; he was rich, and he 
lived, as he had travelled en grand seigneur. He 
lived cleanly now, and not as at Venice. His 
house was a palace. He kept horses; he enter- 
tained; he was in touch with England. Travel- 
ling Englishmen, if they passed through Pisa, 
esteemed it a privilege to be received by him. 
It was he, in short, and he alone, who drew the 
eyes of Europe to Pisa. But for him, nobody 
would have had any curiosity to know what was 
happening at Pisa. He figured before the world 
as the central sun of a lurid system, shedding a 
reflected glory on the satellites. Some of the 
satellites took notes of his table-talk with a view 
to future publication. They all, from time to 
time, and more or less regularly, rode with him, 
practised pistol shooting with him, played bil- 
liards with him, dined with him. Shelley and 
Mary had never lived so socially since their 
marriage. At first, at any rate, the change suited 
them : — 

" Lord Byron," Shelley wrote to Peacock, " is 

329 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

established here, and we are constant companions. 
No small relief this after the dreary solitude of 
the understanding and the imagination in which 
we passed the first years of our expatriation, 
yoked to all sorts of miseries and discomforts. 
. . . We live, as usual, tranquilly. I get up, or 
at least wake, early; read and write till two; 
dine; go to Lord B.'s, and ride, or play at bil- 
liards, as the weather permits. . . . My health 
is better — my cares are lighter." 

" Our party at Pisa," he writes to Horace 
Smith, " is the same as when I wrote last. Lord 
Byron unites us at a weekly dinner, when my 
nerves are generally shaken to pieces by sitting 
up contemplating the rest making themselves 
vats of claret, etc., till three o'clock in the 
morning." 

Mary, at the same time, had more society 
than ever before. " Ride with La Guiccioli " is 
an entry in her Journal several times repeated; 
and she was accepted by persons whose social 
position was less equivocal than La Guiccioli's. 
" I have been once," Shelley writes to Miss 
Clairmont, " to Mrs. Beauclerc's, who did me 
the favour to caress me exceedingly. Unless she 
calls on Mary I shall not repeat my visit." But 
Mrs. peauclerc did call, and even sent an invi- 
tatiorjf, for we read presently in Mary's Diary : 
" Walk with Jane and to the opera with her in 
the evening. With E. Trelawny afterwards to 
330 



TRELAWNY'S NOTES ON LIFE AT PISA 

Mrs. Beauclerc's ball." It was an indication 
that doors were opening and might open wider 
if Mary played her cards well. It was then 
that the "pious dodge" was tried. We read: 
" A note to, and a visit from, Dr. Nott. Go to 
church." 

It was at this period that Byron formed his 
final estimate of Shelley's character, expressed 
in letters written after Shelley's death : — 

" There is another man gone, about whom the 
world was ill-naturedly, and ignorantly, and 
brutally mistaken. It will, perhaps, do him 
justice now, when he can be no better for it." 

' " You were all mistaken about Shelley, who 
was without exception the best and least selfish 
man I ever knew." 

" You are all mistaken about Shelley ; you do 
not know how mild, how tolerant, how good he 
was." 

A striking answer truly to the people who used 
to stop Horace Smith in the street and ask him 
whether it was really true that Shelley was such 
a wicked man, guilty of such enormities; and 
the tribute is the more remarkable because 
Shelley and Byron did not, in the end, get on 
very well together. In part, no doubt, Jane 
Clairmont's constant lamentations over her 
wrongs made trouble between them; but there 
were also deeper incompatibilities with which 

331 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

those wronos had nothing to do. Byron posed, 
and Shelley protested that " the canker of aris- 
tocracy " needed to be cut out of hin\. He had 
brought too many of the traditions of the Dandies 
of the Regency to Pisa to please Shelley, and was 
too proud of his literary success. SlicUev came 
to Ihui his personality overpowering and dis- 
tasteful. It overbore him and sterilized him. 
" It is of vital importance," we (hid him writing, 
" that I should put a period to my intimacy 
with Lord Byron." And again, when the ques- 
tion of going from Pisa to the sea arises : " I 
shall certainly take our house far from Lord 
Byron's, although it may be impossible suddenly 
to put an end to his detested intimacy." And 
then — to Leigh Hunt : — 

*' Certain it is that Lord Byron has made me 
bitterly feel the inreriority wliic^i the world has 
presumed to place between us and which sub- 
sists nowhere in reality but in our own talents, 
which are not our own but Nature's — or in our 
rank — which is not our own but Fortune's." 

How much of that estrangement was due to 
Jane Clairmont's affairs, and how much to diver- 
gence of ideals, is matter of conjecture. Jane 
Clairmont's affairs may liavc been the occasion 
without being the cause — she had a wild plan 
for kidnapping AUegra, and wanted Shelley to 
help her to execute it. The fact of the estrange- 
ment, at any rate, is well attested ; and Shelley's 
332 



TRELAWNY'S NOTES ON LIFE AT PISA 

relations with Byron were, at best, those of a 
minor with a major potentate. There was 
admiration — and a httle envy — but no affeetion. 
Shelley's affeetion was reserved for Medwin, 
Trelawny, and Captain and Mrs. Williams; and 
they returned it. No man has ever written of 
Byron with the ardour of personal devotion 
which they showed to Slielley. 

They were not, like him, it must be remem- 
bered, social Pariahs. If Trelawny was a 
Bohemian, the others were not. Medwin and 
Williams were officers on half-pay, eligible for 
membership of exclusive Service Clubs, if such 
then existed, qualified by birth and breeding 
to be pillars of that respectable middle-class 
society in which the name of Shelley continued 
to be anathema maranatha. Mrs. Williams — 
there was no Mrs. Medwin — could perfectly 
well have taken the line that Mrs. Shelley was 
not the sort of person whom one could call 
upon. But Anglo-Saxon and Anglo-Indian pre- 
judices melted in the genial warmth of the 
Italian sun. Captain and Mrs. Williams pre- 
ferred Shelley (and Mary also) to the most 
respectable people of their acquaintance. They 
came presently to live in a flat in the same house 
with the Shelleys; they met them daily, and 
made the sunshine of the last months of Shelley's 
life. And Shelley, on his part, wove a spell about 
them which none of their respectable acquaint- 
ances would have been capable of weaving. To 
quote Trelawny : — 

833 



TllK ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

'' Shollt v's imntal ju'tivity >v;\s infootioiis : ho 
kept y<Mir brain in constant action. Its offoot 
on his oonu'ado was vorv strikinix. Williams gave 
up all his aoonstomod sport lor books, and the 
bt ttoring of his n\ind ; ho had oxooUont natural 
ability ; and tlio Poot di^ightod to soo tho soods 
ho had sown gorminating. Sholloy Siiid he was 
the sparrow oduoating tho young of the cuokoo. 
Aft(^r a protracted labour, Ned was dolivorod of 
a five-aot tragedy. Shelley was sanguine that 
his pupil would sueeeed as a dramatie writer." 

That the play, though finished and offered 
to a London theatre, rtMuains to this day un- 
produeed is no great matter for surprise. The 
wonder is rather that the oomnumieative warmth 
of a poet's enthusiasm should thus have altered 
the tastt^s and diverted the activities of an Anglo- 
Lidian ollieer who had come to Italy to shoot in 
tlie ^lariinma: and the spell whieh Shelley 
thrtnv at once over Trelawny — a spell whieh 
never lifted to the end of Trelawny's immensely 
long life — is an equal marvel. 

Trelawny was, on the face of it, the last man 
whom one would have expected to seek, or 
rettun, the friendship of one who was at once 
seholar, poet, and idealist. He w^as, like Shelley, 
of the eounty, yet in revolt against it ; but he 
cannot be said to have resembled Shelley in any 
other way. It is customary to liken him to the 
Norwegian vikings, and to suspect that he had 
been a pirate in his time. He looked, at any 
334. 



TRELAWNY'S NOTES ON LIFE AT PISA 

rat<;, picturesque enough for the part of pirate 
in either comic; opera or melodrama, — with a 
wife in every port; he had gone to sea at 
an age at which other lads go to Eton; he had 
had wiJd adventures in the Malay archipelago, 
and was presently to cap them by still more 
desperate doings as the lieutenant of Odysseus, 
the Greek rc;volutionist, in his cave in Attica. 
His constitution, too, was of cast-iron; and, 
after enduring hardships which would have ma/ie 
most men prematurely old at forty, he was to 
live to be the hardiest of hardy octogr-.narians, 
rejoicing in his cold hath in the dead of winter, 
and faeing tiie March winds on the Sussex JJowns 
with sublime disdain for overcoats and under- 
clothing. 

An absolutely uneducated man. One cannot 
even say that his education had been neglected, 
for he had had no education. But he had genius, 
— or, at least, the temperament which instinc- 
tively recognizes genius and responds to it. 
Sfielley's genius conquered him from the first 
day of their acquaintance. He felt — and never 
ceased to feel — the beauty of Shelley's character. 
He constituted himself Shelley's prophet, and 
took his part against the world — sacrificing the 
reputations of Byron, and even of Mary, on the 
altar at which he worshipped. His recently 
published Letters complete the revelation of his 
loyalty. No man was ever more faithful to the 
memory of a mistress than he to Shelley's. Few 
things in literature are more touching than his 

335 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

enthusiastic exchange of recollections with Jane 
Clairmont, then a picturesque old woman, living 
alone at Florence, of those golden months of 
their romantic youth. 

It was a story more than half a century old 
which he then recalled; and it was all as fresh 
in his memory — and in Jane's memory too — as 
if it had been a matter of the day before yester- 
day. It may be that neither memory was liter- 
ally accurate. We have caught Jane tripping; 
and Byron once said that Trelawny was con- 
stitutionally incapable of telling the truth. That 
does not matter. Literal truth is of less value 
than artistic truth; and facts are often more 
misleading than impressions. For the radiant 
period at Pisa, Trelawny is, after all, our best 
witness : — 

" Swiftly gliding in, blushing like a girl, a tall, 
thin stripling held out both his hands; and al- 
though I could hardly believe as I looked at his 
flushed, feminine, and artless face, that it could be 
the Poet, I returned his warm pressure. After the 
ordinary greetings and courtesies, he sat down 
and listened. I was silent from astonishment : 
was it possible this mild-looking, beardless boy 
could be the veritable monster at war with all 
the world ? — excommunicated by the fathers of 
the Church, deprived of his civil rights by the 
iiat of a grim Lord Chancellor, discarded by every 
member of his family, and denounced by the 
rival sages of our literature as the founder of a 
336 



TRELAWNY'S NOTES ON LIFE AT PISA 

Satanic school ? I could not believe it ; it must 
be a hoax." 

That is the picture of the presentation in the 
Williams' apartment. Then, when Shelley had 
talked, warming to his subject : — 

" After this touch of his quality I no longer 
doubted his identity; a dead silence ensued; 
looking up, I asked, 

" ' Where is he ? ' 

" Mrs. Williams said, ' Who ? Shelley ? Oh, 
he comes and goes like a spirit, no one knows 
when or where.' " 

After that Trelawny saw Shelley almost daily, 
either in the Williams' flat or in his own. Here 
is another vignette with a touch of character in 
it. It was on the day on which Williams read 
that five-act drama which the London managers 
did not see their way to produce : — 

" Shelley stood before us with a most woeful 
expression. 

" Mrs. Williams started up, exclaiming, 
' What's the matter, Percy ? ' 
Mary has threatened me.' 
Threatened you with what ? ' 
*' He looked mysterious and too agitated to 
reply. 

" Mrs. Williams repeated, ' With what ? to 
box your ears ? ' 

" ' Oh, much worse than that; Mary says she 
Y 337 






THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

will have a party ; there are English singers here, 
the Sinclairs, and she will ask them, and every 
one she or you know — oh, the horror ! ' 

" We all burst into a laugh except his friend 
Ned. 

" ' It will kill me.' 

" ' Music kill you ! ' said Mrs. Williams. ' Why, 
you have told me, you flatterer, that you loved 
music' 

" ' So I do. It's the company terrifies me. 
For pity, go to Mary and intercede for me ; I will 
submit to any other species of torture than that 
of being bored to death by idle ladies and 
gentlemen.' " 

This picture also claims to be presented : — 

" I called on him one morning at ten ; he was 
in his study with a German folio open, resting 
on the broad marble mantelpiece over an old- 
fashioned fire-place, and with a dictionary in his 
hand. He always read standing if possible. He 
had promised overnight to go with me, but now 
begged me to let him off. I then rode to Leghorn, 
eleven or twelve miles distant, and passed the 
day there; on returning at six in the evening to 
dine with Mrs. Shelley and the Williamses, as I 
had engaged to do, I went into the Poet's room 
and found him exactly in the position in which 
I had left him in the morning, but looking pale 
and exhausted. 

" ' Well,' I said, ' have you found it ? ' 
" Shutting the book and going to the window, 
338 



TRELAWNY'S NOTES ON LIFE AT PISA 

he replied, ' No, I have lost it ' ; with a deep 
sigh : ' I have lost a day.' 

" ' Cheer up, my lad, and come to dinner.' 

" Putting his long fingers through his wild 
masses of wild tangled hair, he answered faintly, 
' You go, I have dined — late eating don't do for 
me.' 

" ' What is this ? ' I asked as I was going out 
of the room, pointing to one of his bookshelves 
with a plate containing bread and cold meat on it. 

" ' That ' — colouring — ' why, that must be my 
dinner. It's very foolish ; I thought I had eaten 
it.' " 

Which leads up to remarks on Shelley's frugal 
habits, and Mary's haphazard house-keeping — 
*' the cupboards of literary ladies are like Mother 
Hubbard's, bare " — and to another anecdote 
which ends with another criticism, implied rather 
than expressed, of Mary : — 

" An Italian who knew his way of life, not 
believing it possible that any human being 
would live as Shelley did, unless compelled by 
poverty, was astonished when told the amount 
of his income, and thought he was defrauded or 
grossly ignorant of the value of money. He, 
therefore, made a proposition which greatly 
amused the Poet, that he, the friendly Italian, 
would undertake, for ten thousand crowns a 
year, to keep Shelley like a grand Seigneur, to 
provide his table with luxuries, his house with 
Y 2 339 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

attendants, a carriage and opera-box for my 
lady, besides adorning his person after the most 
approved Parisian style. Mrs. Shelley's toilette 
was not included in the wily Italian's estimate." 

And then there is the story of Mary discovering 
Shelley in the wood, to which he had fled to com- 
pose his poetry in peace. The words which 
Trelawny puts into her mouth shows us very 
clearly the picture which Trelawny had formed 
of her : — 

" What a wild goose you are, Percy ! If my 
thoughts have strayed from my book, it was to 
the opera, and my new dress from Florence — 
and especially the ivy wreath so much admired 
for my hair, and not to you, you silly fellow ! 
When I left home, my satin slippers had not 
arrived. These are serious matters to gentle- 
women, enough to ruffle the serenest tempered. 
As to you and your ungallant companion, I had 
forgotten that such things are; but as it is the 
ridiculous custom to have men at balls and 
operas, I must take you with me, though, from 
your uncouth ways, you will be taken for Valen- 
tine and he for Orson." 

And the story, already given, of Shelley's denun- 
ciation of jealousy ; and then the story of Shelley 
bringing home a bag of scudi from the bank : — 

" Standing up, he turned out the bag on to 
the hearthrug, and the glittering coins bespangled 
the floor. It was amusing to see him scraping 
them together with the shovel out of the fire- 
340 



TRELAWNY'S NOTES ON LIFE AT PISA 

place ; having adroitly got them into a lump, he 
pressed them as flat as he could with his feet, 
then skilfully with the shovel divided them as 
nearly as possible into two equal portions; one 
of the halves he divided again into two equal 
portions by guess-work, saying to Mary, 

" ' That half will feed the house and pay the 
rent,' then pointing to the smaller portion he 
said, ' that will do for you. This is my portion.' 

" Then he spoke lower to her that I might not 
hear, but she told me that he said, 

" ' I will give this to poor Tom Med win, who 
wants to go to Naples and has no money.' 

" I said to Mary as we were dining, 

" ' Why, he has left nothing for himself.' 

" She said, 

" ' No, if he wants anything he tells me to 
get it, and if he wants a scudo to give any one 
perhaps I lend it him ' (smiling), ' but he can't 
be trusted with money, and he won't have it.' " 

And the story of the Scottish lady, who met 
Shelley, but was not told who he was, lest she 
should be shocked, and her exclamation : — 

" Shocked ! — why, I would have knelt to him 
in penitence for having wronged him even in my 
thoughts. If he is not pure and good, then 
there is no truth and goodness in this world. 
His looks reminded me of my own blessed baby 
— so innocent — so full of love and sweetness." 

And so on, and so forth ; for Trelawny is a 
hero-worshipper with a sense of humour, and 

34.1 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

one never tires of quoting such. His impressions 
may be rather truer than his stories; but the 
stories enshrine and give shape to his impres- 
sions, and therefore they also may be treated as 
artistically true. In them, as in Hogg's stories, 
far more than in any of the stately and exhaustive 
biographies which weigh evidence and balance 
pros and cons, the actual and convincing Shelley 
appears. If they overlook the melancholy which 
now and again flashes out in a letter, we must 
remember that Shelley's last months were, after 
all, the most serene of his career. The jealousy 
which, Trelawny says, embittered some of his 
moments was not visible to him at the time, 
though he heard a good deal about it afterwards. 
Even then, it would seem, he attached very 
little importance to it. He had himself loved 
many women both successively and simul- 
taneously; and he considered — so he confided 
to Miss Clairmont, whom he had loved among the 
rest, in his old age — that all young men were apt 
to do the same. It seemed to him as natural 
that a poet should have a mistress for every 
poem as that a sailor should have a wife in every 
port. One need not argue with him, but may 
reasonably leave the general question to take 
care of itself. In its particular aspects, however, 
it still concerns us a little. It remains to be 
seen whether we can make as light of it as 
Trelawny did. In any case, it always faces us 
in connection with Jane Clairmont ; and it crops 
up for the last time in connection with Jane 
Williams. 
342 



CHAPTER XXX 

JANE WILLIAMS 

As regards Miss Clairmont, a rhyme composed 
by one of the party tells us that, 

The Claire and the Ma 

Find something to fight about every day. 

We need not jump to the conclusion that they 
fought about Shelley, for there were other causes 
of friction. Miss Clairmont' s position as an un- 
married matron may well have seemed as com- 
promising to Mary as it was uncomfortable to her- 
self. That reason might, without any other, explain 
Mary's desire for her removal to a distance. She 
went to Florence, as has been mentioned, and she 
talked of going to Vienna, where her brother 
Charles, no longer dependent on Shelley's bounty, 
was at last establishing himself as a teacher of 
languages. It would doubtless have been a 
relief to Mary if she had gone. 

She did not go, and affection for Shelley may 
have been one of her reasons for not going. That 
inference from her confession that she loved 
Shelley with all her heart and soul, gets some 
support from the difference in tone between 
Shelley's and Mary's letters to her. In Mary's 

343 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

letters there is always a certain assumption of 
superiority, as of one who addresses an unfortu- 
nate but erring sister to whom she wishes to do 
her duty, though she is not fond of her. Shelley's 
manner is far more intimate. He invites Jane 
to return — as she presently did — to his home. 
He anticipates modernity to the point of calling 
her '' my best girl." He goes out of his way to 
assure her that Mary does not see either his letters 
or hers, and signs himself " yours most tenderly." 
He also goes out of his way to protest to her that 
he is not in love with Emilia Viviani. When 
sending her money, he writes : " Pardon me, my 
dearest, for mentioning scudi, and do not love 
me less because they are a portion of the inevitable 
dross of life which clings to our friendship." 

Still that may have been nothing more than an 
example of Shelley's caressing way with women. 
He was a Romantic ; and it is the characteristic of 
the Romantics to substitute the language of senti- 
ment for that of gallantry, and then, at times, to 
be carried away by their own eloquence. Two 
things, at any rate, are certain about Shelley. 
When women attracted him, he could with difficulty 
refrain — and did not, indeed, try to refrain — from 
talking, and perhaps behaving, as if he were in 
love with them; but he never, in his Italian 
period, felt the coup de foudre which impels men 
to do mad and desperate things. On the whole 
he was, towards the end, far more in love with 
love than with any particular woman. 

Jealousy, as we know, was in his view an 
344 



JANE WILLIAMS 

abominable emotion. One does not know for 
certain whether he had any need to Hve up to 
the doctrine, or any difficulty in doing so. He 
laughed when the ludicrous Taaffe sent Mary two 
guinea-pigs as a present, with the note : " O, that 
I were one of those guinea-pigs, that I might see 
you, this morning ! " But Prince Mavrocordato 
had also been very attentive, visiting Mary regu- 
larly, to give her lessons in Greek; and this is 
how Shelley announces his departure : — 

" A vessel has arrived to take the Greek Prince 
and his suite to join the army in Morea. He is 
a great loss to Mary and therefore to me . . . but 
not otherwise." 

One wonders; but one can get no further than 
wondering. The situation — ^the existence of 
jealousy and the distribution of it — is much 
clearer in the passage in Mr. Graham's interview 
relating to the days when Shelley, Mary, the 
Williamses, and Miss Clairmont were all living in 
the same house at Lerici : — 

"What did she (Mary) think," Mr. Graham 
asked, " of that poem beginning (and to whom did 
it allude) — 

' The serpent is shut out from Paradise, 
The wounded deer must seek the herb no more 
In which its heart-cure lies ? ' 

" Miss Clairmont did not appear altogether 
to care for this allusion to a tendresse for another 

345 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

Jane, and I directed my conversation to a more 
personal channel. 

" ' Poor Mary,' I replied. ' Fancy such a 
disturbing element in the house ! It cannot be 
altogether bliss to have a lovely sister and an 
arch-charmeuse under the same roof with a hus- 
band who speaks the language of the gods, whose 
' food is love and fame.' 

" ' Well, it was not my fault that men fell in 
love with me,' she replied, with that strange 
half-shy, tantalizing smile which irradiated her 
face with a flood of youth, and put it out of 
one's power to realize that this was a woman 
of eighty." 

There is jealousy there : two women jealous, 
even if the third is not ; the third being of course 
Jane Williams. Her portrait in the Bodleian 
attests her beauty; and we have a cloud of 
witnesses to her charm. The same witnesses, 
it is true, depose that she was shallow; but 
whereas a woman's charm leaps to the eyes, her 
shallowness, supposing her to be shallow, may 
long remain hidden; and when it is discovered, 
her charm may be held to excuse it. 

Jane Williams was vain; and no woman 
would call her " nice." The circumstances of 
her second marriage, to Thomas Jefferson Hogg, 
irradiate her portrait rather unpleasingly. Her 
acceptance of his proposal was conditional, — 
he must " qualify " by a nine months' tour on 
the Continent. When he had qualified, and 
846 



JANE WILLIAMS 

been rewarded, she regaled him with talk about 
Shelley which, fond as he had been of Shelley, 
cannot have been quite to his taste, — ^boasting 
of her " conquest," and declaring that Shelley 
had, in his last months, neglected Mary to make 
love to her. Her boasts reached Mary's ears, 
and there was a quarrel. One does not like 
the sort of woman who does that sort of thing, 
even if one feels sure that she is more silly than 
vicious. 

Yet Jane was very charming until she was 
found out; and she was clever, for all her silli- 
ness; and she would probably have said — fully 
persuaded that she spoke the truth — ^that she 
had neither meant any harm nor done any. Her 
husband never doubted her. " I am proud, 
dear girl, beyond words to express," he wrote 
in his very last letter to her, " in the conviction 
that wherever we may be together, you could be 
cheerful and contented ; " and he added : " This 
is our longest separation, and seems a year to 
me." He was sure, that is to say — ^the context 
implies it — ^that his wife's attachment to him 
was of a different quality from Mary's attach- 
ment to Shelley, who had made certain con- 
fessions, to him as well as to Jane, of his domestic 
discontents. 

Nor is there any reason whatever to suppose 
that he was mistaken. Jane was quite loyal, — 
silly, that is to say, but not vicious, — innocent 
in thought as well as deed, and not in the least 
in love with Shelley. But she was vain, and 

347 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

capabk\ like the other Jane, of the vain woman's 
argument that it is not her fault if nun fall in 
love with her. She liked admiration, — perhaps 
it made her feel a better woman. She liked a 
poet — espt^eially if he were a handsome poet 
with soulful eyes — to sit at her feet, and delight 
in her singing, and tell her that he found his best 
inspiration in eomnuming with her. She trusted 
herself ; she knew where to draw the line ; she 
was quite sure of her power to cheek her admirer's 
ill-timed impetuosity if the need arose. As for 
IVIary — one imagines that Jane was, in a mild, 
kind way, rather sorry for her, though sorrier 
for Shelley. One can imagine the pitying, 
sympathetic smile with which she would have 
read the lines which Shelley sent to her : — 

jyhrn I return to mij cold home, you ask 

^Vliy I am not as 1 have lately been. 
You spoil )ne for the task 

Of acting a forced part on life\\' dull scene, — 
Of :vearing on my brow the idle mask 

Of author, great or nu^an. 

In the rvorld's carnival, I sought 
Peace thus, and but in you I found it not. 

Or these : — 

Though thou art ever fair and kind, 

And forests ever green. 
Less oft is peace in Shelley's mind 
Than calm in water seen. 
348 



JANE WTTJJAMS 

Or the famous lyri<; : — 

One word is too often profaned 

For me to profane it : 
One feeling too falsely disdained 

For thee to disdain it. 
One hope is too like despair 

For prudence to smother ; 
And pity from, thee more dear 

Than that from another. 
I can ^ive not what men call love : 

Ihit wilt thou accept not 
The homage the heart lifts above. 

And the Heavens reject not : 
The desire of the mMh for the star. 

Of the ni^ht for the morrow. 
The devotion to som^thin^ afar 

From the sphere of our sorrow. 

Lyric after lyric, written in that tone of 
sorrowful aspiration, was laid at Jane Williams' 
feet in thiose last months. Nothing else in- 
spired Shelley at that period. The inference is 
irresistible that he was vastly more in love with 
her than slie with him; but even so one need 
infer no passion of the kind which threatens the 
breaking up of homes. Shelley was once more, 
as he put it in the case of Emilia, " seeking in 
mortal image the likeness of what is perhaps 
eternal." As he had failed to find that likeness 
in Emilia, so he would, in the end, have failed 
to find it in Jane. One knows Jane well enough 

349 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

to feel quite sure of that. But the quest appealed 
to him, even though he only followed it in a 
spirit of elaborate make-believe. It was his 
one way of escape from the melancholy which 
seemed to grow upon him as the years were 
heaped upon his head, and the illusions of his 
boyhood burst like bubbles. 

Of one thing, however, we may be certain. 
If Jane Williams showed little tact when she 
recalled Shelley's homage in the alcove with 
Hogg, she must have shown great tact and 
discretion at the time when she accepted it. 
Her husband looked on and approved, regarding 
Shelley with a devotion greater than her own, 
and feeling proud of a wife who thus inspired 
a poet's flights to the empyrean. Mary, if 
conscious of a barrier growing up between her 
soul and Shelley's, never charged — and it would 
almost seem never suspected — Jane Williams 
of building it. Jane remained her friend until 
the day when she blurted out her vain-glorious 
boasts to Hogg ; and, in the meantime, they 
were on such cordial terms that they could agree 
to share a seaside villa for the summer. 

And so to Casa Magni, at Lerici, on the Bay 
of Spezia. 



350 



CHAPTER XXXI 

CASA MAGNI 

Casa Magni stood at the water's edge, — the 
ground floor almost in the sea, unpaved and 
used as a store-room. Dark woods rose behind 
the villa; its situation was beautiful, but deso- 
late. The Williamses had one room; the 
Shelleys two. Jane Clairmont came, and went, 
and came again. It was a case of close packing 
when she was there; but still neither the men 
nor the women quarrelled to any extent which 
those who knew them have thought it worth 
while to mention; and that fact is eloquent. 
It may, or may not, prove that Mary was long- 
suffering. It certainly proves that Jane Williams 
was tactful, and that Shelley's love-making was 
more ethereal than passionate. 

It was at Casa Magni that the news of Allegra's 
death in her convent school was broken to Jane 
Clairmont. Her first passionate sorrow died 
away and left her calmer, — relieved, as it were, 
to be released from the wearing and unequal 
struggle with Allegra's father. The sorrow which 
puts an end to strife is sometimes, in that 
sense, restful and almost grateful. Mary, at the 
same time, had a serious illness, — a miscarriage 
and its consequences giving grounds for real 

351 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

anxiety. She recovered her health — more or 
less — but not her spirits. Her nerves were 
shaken. She was in the mood in which little 
troubles seem great, and great troubles terrible. 
We have her own accoimt of her complaints, 
and it would be easy to say that they were ex- 
aggerated complaints of trifling inconveniences. 

" Such a place as this ! The poverty of the 
people is beyond anything, yet they do not 
appear unhappy, but go on in dirty content, or 
contented dirt, while we fmd it hard w^ork to 
purvey miles around for a few eatables. We 
were in wretched discomfort at first, but now 
are in a kind of disorderly order, living from day 
to day as we can. ... As only one house was to be 
found habitable in this gulf, the Williamses have 
taken up their abode with us, and their servants 
and mine quarrel like cats and dogs ; and besides, 
you may imagine how ill a large family agrees 
with my laziness, when accounts and domestic 
concerns come to be talked of." 

So Mary wrote at the time to IMrs. Gisborne, 
and she wrote similarly at a later date : — 

" I was not well in body or mind. My nerves 
were woiuid up to the utmost irritation, and the 
sense of misfortune himg over my spirits. No 
words can tell you how I hated our house and 
the country about it. Shelley reproached me for 
this. His health was good, and the place was 
352 



CASA MAGNI 

quite after his own heart. VVIiat could I answer ? 
That the people were wild and hateful ; that 
though the country was beautiful, yet I liked a 
more countrified place, and tliat there was great 
difficulty in living ; that ail our Tuscans would 
leave us, and that the very jargon of those 
Genovese was disgusting. That was all I had to 
say, but no words could describe my feelings ; 
the beauty of the woods made we weep and 
shudder." 

The same lamentation occurs in the Note on 
the Poems written in 1822 : — 

" The natives were wilder than the place. 
Our near neighbours of San Terenzo were more 
like savages than any people I ever before lived 
among .... We could get no provisions nearer 
than Sarzana, at a distance of three miles and a 
half off, with the torrent of the Magra between; 
and even there the supply was very deficient. 
Had we been wrecked on an island of the South 
Seas, we could scarcely have felt ourselves further 
from civilisation and comfort ; but where the 
sun shines the latter becomes an unnecessary 
luxury, and we had enough society among our- 
selves. Yet I confess housekeeping became 
rather a toilsome task, especially as I was suffer- 
ing in my health, and could not exert myself 
actively." 

Small matters truly, if one could be sure that 
z 353 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

they formed the sum-total of the trouble ; but 
that, of course, is what one cannot be sure of. 
Causes are generally veiled behind occasions; 
and occasions are easier to expound tlian causes. 
Worry with the servants and the tradespeople — 
joints which did not turn up in time — difficulties 
of converse in an vmaccustomed dialect with an 
uncouth peasantry : these things, in other moods, 
would have been trifles, to be dismissed with a 
shrug of the shoulders. But if Mary felt that 
she was a failure — that things were drifting 
whither she would not — that she had not the 
power to check the drift— the case was different. 
On two conditions she could have been happy : 
if everything had continued to be as in the days 
of the honeymoon, when Shelley had signed his 
letters to her " Your Elfin Knight," and had laid 
Laon and Cythna at her feet with the dedica- 
tion : — 

" So now my summer task is ended, Mary, 
And I return to thee, mine own heart'' s home ; 
As to his Queen some victor Knight of Faery, 
Earning bright spoils for her enchanted dome.^^ 

On that condition, or if marriage had had its 
ordinary sequel, and she had been able to 
settle down, at peace with the world, making 
a fixed home, striking root, sharing the common 
lot. 

But neither of these conditions had been 
fulfilled. She had been a wanderer for years, — 
354 



CASA MAGNI 

and not only a wanderer, but a Pariah, — she 
who assuredly was not born to be anything of 
the kind, but was a British Matron at heart, 
forbidden to live as a British Matron because 
of the coup de tete of her seventeenth year. At 
the same time she knew — what even a stupid 
woman could not have failed to know — that she 
was no longer all that she once had been to Shelley. 
He was still affectionate ; but he dreamed dreams 
in which she did not figure ; he looked to other 
women — however Platonically — for inspiration. 
Hence the sense of failure, springing up in a 
morbid mind, in circumstances in which women 
tend to harbour morbid thoughts. Hence also 
the sense that things were drifting — as no doubt 
they were. 

How far they would have drifted, if Fate had 
let them drift, one can but guess. Not, prob- 
ably, to any immediate catastrophe; Jane 
Williams being passionless and tactful, and 
Shelley no longer the creature of impulse which 
he once had been. Yet it is just as unlikely that 
they would have drifted to any calm and happy 
haven. A man's heart at Shelley's age is far 
more ready to travel forward than to travel 
back; and mere drifting, though to no definite 
disaster, is itself catastrophe. It is anti-climax, 
which is a sadder thing even than tragedy. If 
one may choose, then better than anti-climax 
is a sudden and poignantly heart-rending end. 

So Shelley seems to have felt. One may not, 

indeed, draw the inference from his proposal to 

Z2 355 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

Jane Williams that he should upset the boat 
in which he was rowing her, in order that they 
might " together solve the great mystery." 
That, though it frightened Jane Williams, may 
have been mere playfulness; but one finds no 
playfulness in this letter to Trelawny : — 

" Should you meet with any scientific person 
capable of preparing the Prussic Acid, or essential 
oil of hitter almonds, I should regard it as a great 
kindness if you could procure me a small quantity. 
It requires the greatest caution in preparation, 
and ought to be highly concentrated; I would 
give any price for this medicine. You remember 
we talked of it the other night, and we both 
expressed a wish to possess it ; my wish was 
serious, and sprung from the desire of avoiding 
needless suffering. I need not tell you I have 
no intention of suicide at present, but I confess 
it would be a comfort to me to hold in my posses- 
sion that golden key to the chamber of perpetual 
rest." 

That the suffering from which Shelley wished 
to be able to escape at will was merely physical 
suffering one docs not easily believe. His 
health, just then, was better than it had been 
for a long time ; his spirits, on the whole, were 
higher. But things were drifting— visibly drift- 
ing, though he knew not whither. He may have 
feared the consequences if he let them drift 
much further — but meantime it was pleasant 
356 



CASA MAGNI 

enough to let them drift. He enjoyed the heat 
and the shadow, and the sea and the woods, 
even when he found Mary fretful. Jane 
Williams helped him to enjoy, singing to him 
on the balcony, to the accompaniment of the 
guitar which he had given her, accepting the 
homage of his verse in the spirit in which 
a Queen accepts the flattery of courtiers, — re- 
warding it with smiles, though not deeply moved 
by it. Afterwards, no doubt, — ^but there was to 
be no afterwards. 

The day came when Leigh Hunt and his wife 
and family arrived at Leghorn. He had been 
invited to Italy to associate himself with Byron 
and Shelley in the editing of a periodical publica- 
tion — the ill-fated Liberal ; and an apartment 
had been furnished for him in Byron's palace. 
It was an unfortunate expedition ; but the story 
of the misunderstandings attending it belongs 
to another book than this. Shelley had nothing, 
or at any rate very little, to do with them. The 
end was to come before that trouble reached 
its culmination. Meanwhile he hurried off to 
Leghorn to greet Hunt, and see him comfortably 
settled in his new home. Thornton Hunt, then 
a small boy, remembered the enthusiasm of 
his welcome, and his cry : "I am inexpressibly 
delighted ; you cannot think how inexpressibly 
happy it makes me." 

There was much to be done : sights to be seen, 
calls to be paid, purchases to be made, a physician 
to be consulted about Mrs. Hunt's health, a 

857 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

misunderstanding with Byron to be smoothed 
over. Hunt, too, had to be suppUed witli money ; 
for he had landed praetieally penniless, depending 
on his friends, according to his habit, for the 
necessaries as well as the luxuries of life. But 
that mattered little to Shelley, though Byron 
resented the presumption. Gold was dross to 
Shelley when the friends who asked him for it 
were amiable ; and Hunt's amiability was irre- 
sistible. He would have been remembered as 
one of the most lovable men of his age, if it had 
not been for the imperious necessity which 
compelled him to be for ever dipping into the 
pockets of those who loved him. Trelawny 
says tliat he was not only Shelley's " dearest " 
but also his " most costly " friend ; but Shelley 
himself drew no such distinction. 

He had looked forward to Hunt's coming — 
he gladly paid the price ; and a week passed 
happily. " We talked of a thousand things," 
says Hunt. " We anticipated a thousand 
pleasures," — pleasures which, as we know, were 
never to be realized. Yet, even so, one suspects 
that the anticipations were keener in Hunt's 
mind than in Shelley's. Hunt admitted that 
he found an undertone of melancholy in Shelley's 
talk. The sanguine enthusiasm which he remem- 
bered seemed to him to have taken a more sober, 
hue. He guessed at no reason for the change. 
The fact that Shelley was growing older — ^though, 
in truth, he was not yet twenty-nine — and that 
the world still refused a hearing to his message 
358 



CASA MAGNI 

may well have seemed reason enough to him. 
Melancholy, at any rate, whatever the reason 
for it, is the note of his last letters. This is what 
he wrote to Jane Williams on the eve of his 
return : — 

" I fear you are solitary and melancholy at 
Villa Magni, and, in the intervals of the greater 
and more serious distress in which I am com- 
pelled to sympathize here, I figure to myself 
the countenance which had been the source of 
such consolation to me, shadowed by a veil of 
sorrow. How soon those hours passed, and 
how slowly they return to pass so soon again, 
perhaps for ever, in which we have lived togetlier 
so intimately, so happily ! Adieu, my dearest 
friend ! I only write these lines for the pleasure 
of writing what will meet your eyes." 

A letter to Mary went by the same post. It 
dealt chiefly with Hunt's troubles and embarrass- 
ments. The only personal words are these : — 

" How are you, my best Mary ? Write especi- 
ally how is your health and how your spirits 
are, and whether you are not more reconciled to 
staying at Lerici, at least during the summer. 
You have no idea how I am hurried and occupied ; 
I have not a moment's leisure, but will write by 
next post." 

• The letter was hardly written when he started 

359 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

— he and Williams together — to sail back to 
their house on the bay of Spezzia. Trelawny 
was to have borne them company, a part of the 
way, in Byron's yacht ; but his papers were not 
in order, and the Public Health Authorities of 
the Port stopped him. He returned, and cast 
anchor, and watched the smaller boat through 
his telescope, conversing with the mate. The 
boat, said the mate, was carrying too much sail. 
It was standing too much in shore. The dirty 
clouds in the south-west betokened danger. 
The devil was brewing mischief. There would 
be a squall. 

He had hardly spoken when a sea fog descended 
and the boat was lost from view. When the 
storm broke, and scattered the mist, the boat was 
no more to be seen. The sea change had been 
suffered, — no one quite knew how; and there 
followed several awful days of suspense, until 
at last the mangled bodies were thrown up on 
the beach, and Trelawny spurred his horse that 
he might break the news, before any rude stranger 
had time to blurt it out, to the women who waited 
weeping, in their home. 



860 



THE SEQUEL 

MARY SHELLEY'S SUITORS 

Shelley's biographer is under no obligation 
to look for a sequel to his story in the subsequent 
events of Mary Shelley's life ; and it has always 
been the assumption even of Mary Shelley's own 
biographers that there was no sequel worth pur- 
suing. For the rest of her days, it has been 
commonly supposed, she merely mourned her 
loss, devoted herself to the education of her son, 
and earned her living by literary work of no 
particular importance, regarding the emotional 
chapter of her life as closed for ever. But that 
is not quite the case. There is still something to 
be added : something which it was impossible 
for previous biographers to add. 

One fact, of course, some previous biographers 
have added : that Mary received a proposal of 
marriage from Trelawny. He was sufficiently a 
creature of impulse to propose marriage to any 
woman — and also to regret having done so ; but, 
in this instance, the evidence that Mary declined 
the proposal is stronger than the evidence that 
Trelawny made it. Let us have the passages 
from the letters on which the story rests before 
us : — 

361 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

Trelawny to Mary : — 

" Do not you, dear Mary, abandon me by 
following tlie evil example of my other ladies. 
I should not wonder if fate, without our choice, 
united us ; and who can control his fate ? I 
blindly follow his decrees, dear Mary." 

Mary to Trelawny : — 

" Do you think that I shall ever marry ? 
Never — neither you nor anybody else. Mary 
Shelley shall be written on my tomb — and why ? 
I cannot tell, except that it is so pretty a name 
that, thougli I were to preach to myself for years, 
I never should have the heart to get rid of it." 

Trelawny to Mary : — 

" I was more delighted with your resolve not 
to change your name than with any other portion 
of your letter. Trelawny, too, is a good name, 
and sounds as well as Shelley ; it fills the mouth 
as well, and will as soon raise a spirit." 

Marj^ Shelley to Trelawny, — saying the last 
word in the matter : — 

" My name will never be Trelawny. I am not 
so young as I was when you first knew me, but 
I am as proud. I must have the entire affection, 
devotion, and, above all, the solicitous protection 
of one who would win me. You belong to women- 
kind in general, and Mary Shelley will never be 
yours." 
362 




C''/ 



■\- 



%J^. 



^ 



MARY SHELLEY'S SUITORS 

That is all. It is an extraordinary situation, 
made the more extraordinary by the revela- 
tion, in Trelawny's letters, that, at the time of 
Shelley's death, Trelawny was making violent 
protestations of love to Jane Clairmont — to 
whom, as we have already seen, he was to 
confide in his old age that he regarded Mary 
as "devoid of imagination and Poetry," "the 
weakest of her sex," and "the most conventional 
slave I ever knew," — one who " even affected 
the pious dodp:^- such was he:' yearninj^ • ; , 
society." ■ 

Truly it is a queer tangle ; and it increases in 
queerness when we read Miss Clairmont's remarks 
about Trelawny in her letters to Mary : " There 
is a certain want of sympathy between us which 
makes writing to him extremely disagreeable to 
me. . . . He is full of fine feelings and has no 
principles, I am full of fine principles but never 
had a feeling; he receives all his impressions 
through his heart, I througli my head. Que 
voulez-vous ? Le moyen de se rencontrer when one 
is bound for the North Pole and the other for 
the South ? " One can make little of it all 
except that Trelawny was a violent, variable, 
and terrifying suitor, and that both Mary and 
Claire felt apprehension, not unnaturally, mingled 
with their genuine and high regard for him. An 
article on Mary Shelley's suitors would be quickly 
finished if Trelawny had been the only one. 

But he was not ; and this preface brings us to 
Si, curious three-cornered love affair in which the 

363 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

three names involved are those of Mary Shelley, 
John Howard Payne, the author of " Home, 
Sweet Home," and — Washington Irving. That 
story is new as well as strange. There is no word 
about it in the Lives of any of the three actors 
in the drama. Mrs. Shelley's name is not even 
mentioned in the Lives of Washington Irving 
and Payne. Payne's and Washington Irving's 
names are not even mentioned in any of the 
Lives of Mrs. Shelley. Payne was the only one 
"^ three to whom the thing" which happened 
mattered ; and he did not speaVc a'- out it. The 
record of them, however, was among his papers, 
which passed through the hands of autograph 
collectors for a long time before their significance 
was recognized ; and from those papers the story 
can be reconstructed. 

A word to begin with about John Howard 
Payne. 

Born in 1791, Payne was the son of a New 
York school-master, and began life as a clerk in 
a mercantile house. Inspired by the fame of 
Betty, the Young Roscius, he went on the stage 
and became known as the Young Roscius of 
America. Cooke, who met him during his 
American tour, wrote that he thought him " a 
polite sensible youth, and the reverse of our 
Young Roscius." He came to England in 1813, 
with good introductions, and presently aban- 
doned acting for theatrical management and 
dramatic authorship. He was in Paris during 
the " hundred days," sharing an apartment there 
364 



MARY SHELLEY'S SUITORS 

with Washington Irving; and Byron's friend 
Hobhouse gave him, just as he gave Jane Clair- 
mont, an introduction to Douglas Kinnaird, who 
commissioned him to look out for French plays 
which could be adapted for the English stage. 
He was, for some time, in partnership with 
Washington Irving for this purpose ; and he also 
wrote original theatrical pieces — notably Clan 
the Maid of Milan^ which had " Home, Sweet 
Home " for one of its lyrics. 

Of " Home, Sw^ ^t Home " one hundred ^' ; 
sand copies v- "'^^^d in the "T'^ '\ ear, at a profit 
of 2,000 guineas; but the profit was not for the 
author. Payne was always poor; and an un- 
successful venture in management as lessee of 
Sadler's Wells first brought him to a debtor's 
prison, and then compelled him to retire to the 
Continent in order to avoid his creditors. He 
returned to America in 1835, and, after engaging 
for some time in journalism, received from 
President Tyler, in 1842, the appointment of 
United States Consul in Tunis. He was the 
Consul to whom the Bey of Tunis exclaimed : 
" America ! x4Lmerica ! Where is it ? I do not 
know of any such country." Recalled in 1845, 
he was reinstated in 1851, but died, at the 
Consulate, in the following year — unmarried. 

" It was," writes a subsequent Consul, Amos 
Perry, " a sad issue and a cruel lot. He was in 
a foreign land, deprived of the pleasures of the 
sweet home about which he had sung, and of the 

365 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

presence of long-cherished friends. Yet he was 
cared for. Sweet charity from Christians, Mussul- 
mans, and Jews failed him not. He was tenderly 
and lovingly nursed till his spirit departed from 
the clayey tabernacle." 

He died in debt, though his obligations 
amounted to no more than 700 dollars ; so Amos 
Perry continues : — 

" For the want of this amount of money, after 
' ..c notice had '""ii. given tf^ Mr. Payne's rela- 
tives in America, his library, LO^^!!.jld furniture, 
pictures, sword of office, and numerous manu- 
scripts and works of art, were appraised and sold 
at auction. His personal apparel, an extensive 
collection of manuscripts, mostly in bound 
volumes, an autograph -album of distinguished 
contemporary authors, and numerous choice 
keepsakes were not appraised or sold. What 
became of them is rather a matter of conjecture 
than of proof. They were unquestionably taken 
away by unauthorized persons and were effectually 
scattered and lost. The autograph-album re- 
ferred to has, I am assured, been offered for sale 
in New York at a price sufficient to have paid 
all Mr. Payne's debts." 

Not all the wanderings of the letters thus lost 
can be traced ; but some of them, removed from 
Tunis by Mr. M. P. Chandler, who succeeded 
Paj^ne as Consul there, have been recovered. 
They were bought by Mr. William K. Bixby, and 
have quite recently been printed, for private 
366 



MARY SHELLEY'S SUITORS 

circulation, by the Boston Bibliopiiile Society. 
They include letters from Mary Shelley to Payne ; 
letters from Payne to Mary Shelley ; letters from 
Payne to Washington Irving. They tell a story, 
and show us why Payne never married. 

His biographer, of course, has a theory on that 
subject, which is the usual theory. This is how 
he puts it : — 

" A heavy shadow was cast over his eventful 
life by the unhappy termination of a romance of 
his early manhood when b.^^t rcame devotedly 
attached to a lady of Boston, whose rare beauty 
and mental accomplishments made her the idol 
of the social circle in which she moved. The 
affection of the gifted lover was warmly recipro- 
cated, and a marriage would have completed the 
happiness of both but for parental interference." 

That story, however, even if true, is by no 
means the whole truth. Payne can hardly have 
been more than twenty at the time of that dis- 
appointment ; and the heart of man is too elastic 
an organ to have all the spring taken out of it 
by the sentimental mishaps of early youth ; and 
it was with Payne as with others. He loved 
again at the age of thirty-four. He loved Mary 
Shelley — who used him as her stalking-horse for 
the pursuit of Washington Irving — whose heart 
was not to be captured by her. 

The acquaintance was made, apparently at 
the Hotel Nelson, in Paris. Mary Shelley stayed 
there on her melancholy way home from Italy 
in 1823, and Payne was then in Paris, evading 

367 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

his English creditors, and writing plays in col- 
laboration with Irving. In the early months of 
1824, Payne was once more in London — on what 
precise terms with his creditors one does not 
know; and our first letter shows Mary Shelley 
addressing him as a comparative stranger, but 
inviting him to tea. She begins " My dear Sir," 
and says : — 

" Mrs. Harwood called on me to-day, and, 
expressing a great desire to find some opportunity 
of conversing ^]''^|^ you about your American 
friend, I thought that I might \ cnture to say 
that I would ask you to meet her here, and fixed 
with her Sunday evening, i.e. at six p.m. Will 
you come and over a cup of hyson drink to the 
better delivering of embassies, and that all 
messengers do not set amicable powers by the 
ears ? " 

Mrs. Harwood has nothing to do with the story. 
The sequel will show that it was not by her but 
by Mary Shelley that the interest in the "American 
friend " was principally felt. Payne, however, 
misread the letter, called on Monday by mis- 
take, and found Mrs. Shelley out. He apologized, 
and Mrs. Shelley, in return, apologized for her 
" ill-formed pothooks," and asked Payne to 
" tempt fortune again." He did so, and once 
more missed her, with the result that he received 
a third invitation, accompanied by specific direc- 
tions as to the means of travelling from Arundel 
Street, Strand, to Kentish Town, where Mrs. *^ 
Shelley was then living : - 
368 



MARY SHELLEY'S SUITORS 

" Will you drink tea with me to-morrow ? as 
a cold of Percy's will detain me at home from my 
expected engagement. 

" If you are in the Strand, you will find stages 
in James Street, Covent Garden, every hour; if 
in Lancaster Street, attain the turnpike at Battle 
Bridge at ten minutes exactly after any hour 
being struck, and soon one of our vehicles will 
pass, which, on being directed, will set you down 
at my door. 

" You see how diligently I try to repair an 
inconsequence which must not make you think 
me unpunctual, which I am not." 

That was the beginning; and a letter from 
Mrs. Shelley to Miss Curran shows what was the 
manner of her life at the time. She saw few 
people " so far from the centre of bustling 
London." Her principal companion was Jane 
Williams, with whom she had not yet quarrelled. 
She could not " dream of society," because she 
could not afford to give dinner-parties; and " as 
to theatres, etc., how can a ' lone woman ' think 
of such things ? " 

She could, however, and did, think of such 
things a good deal, when her acquaintance with 
Payne developed into friendship. Payne, though 
a poor man, was a power at the box-offices ; and 
his pockets were always full of complimentary 
tickets. He could give Mrs. Shelley " orders," 
and he could lend her books. We presently find 
him lending her Cooper's Lionel Lincoln, and 
making that work a text for the defence of 
A A 369 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

American manners. Americans, he says, " having 
no privileged class to keep them in mind of 
high manners, become habitually careless and 
abrupt " ; but he protests : " We have refined 
feelings . . . and these are no bad substitutes 
after all." The reason why he is anxious that 
Mrs. Shelley should believe in the " refined 
feelings " of his countrymen appears in the same 
letter : — 

" Do not think that I, like Miss Fanny Holcroft, 
am in a patronising mood, if I say that your 
yesterday's conversations filled my mind so full 
of yourself that my poor pillow had but a small 
portion of its due. A heroine in love and friend- 
ship and duty to a parent, — and to the two 
former almost a martyr, is to me a being so 
beyond all others that, even though her qualities 
are certainly ' images ' of what is promised in 
' heaven above,' I can kneel down and worship 
them without dreading the visitation upon 
idolatry. The union of superior intellectual en- 
dowments with simplicity, fervour, and elevation 
and purity of character, is so rare that, where it 
does exist, there can be no high treason against 
forms in welcoming so delightful a family with 
some enthusiasm. To any ordinary woman I 
should not dare to say this. It would certainly 
be interpreted to my disadvantage. But I think 
you would never have entered upon what related 
to yourself with me had you been utterl}^ in- 
different to my opinion, and where we resist the 
world, there is some satisfaction in knowing that 
370 



MARY SHELLEY'S SUITORS 

our motives are appreciated by those for whom 
we have any, even the humblest, value. Be 
certain I feel the limit I am bound to set to the 
compliment of your unreserve, and that I am 
incapable of presuming upon it even in the 
wildest dreams. This would be the most despic- 
able vanity, and though, in talking to you for 
talking's sake, you have often found me falling 
into vapid egotism, I can assure you I am only 
just vain enough to think I have no vanity — 
certainly none on these points. May I not, then, 
praise you, and like you, and more, much more 
than like you, without a box on the ear, or 
frowns, or wonder that I should presume to do 
so, or be so impertinent as to tell you I do ? 
I can only be convinced I may by your com- 
mands, whenever there is anything in the world 
I can at any time or in any way do to show with 
how much truth I am 

" Yours, J. H. P." 

Payne, it is clear, had already gone a good way 
towards falling in love when he wrote that; but 
the answer which he received was only moderately 
encouraging. " You must not make me vain," 
wrote Mrs. Shelley in reply ; and she continued : 
" You are good and kind, and deserve, therefore, 
nothing but kindness. But we must tread lightly 
on the mosaic of circumstance; for, if we press 
too hard, the beauty and charm is defaced." A 
non-committal letter, but one accompanied by 
" commands " such as Payne had solicited. Mrs. 
Shelley would like to see VirginiuSy and " a box 

A A 2 371 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

would be preferable, wherever it might be, if it 
could be obtained." 

Of course, she received the tickets — of course, 
with an offer of Payne's escort : "If you like to 
have me with you, let me know by three o'clock 
on the appointed day; if more convenient to 
make up the party without me, do so." One 
perceives Payne here still very much afraid of 
presuming. He hopes that he does not intrude, 
— ^he promises not to intrude; but the grounds 
on which he bases his promise almost amount to 
a declaration of love : — 

" I can have your company without oppressing 
you with mine. You are perpetually in my 
presence, and if I close my eyes you are still there, 
and if I cross my arms over them and try to wave 
you away, still you will not be gone. This mad- 
ness of my imagination flatters itself with a 
forlorn hope of a delightful vagueness in part of 
your note. ... If the fata morgana will fling 
these pretty pictures over the heart, are we to 
shut our eyes and not rejoice in them ? They 
are as beautiful as reality while they last, and 
when reality itself fades, what becomes of the 
difference ? I would not have you check my 
delusion. If in looking above my path at the 
sweet paradise of vapour, I am doomed to fall 
into a pit, I must scramble out again as well as 
I can, and say, ' it will all be the same a hundred 
years hence. . . .' 

"... For all your smiling I know very well 
what that part of your letter means which I 
372 



MARY SHELLEY'S SUITORS 

pretended just now not to understand. If you 
tread lightly on the beautiful mosaic of my day 
dreams, still you do tread on it, and only leave 
me liberty to be grateful for the pressure — and 
I am grateful — and care nothing about myself 
so I may care for you, and tell you so without 
your being angry." 

The writer's reward was to be addressed no 
longer as " My dear Sir," but as " My dear 
Payne." One feels that it was time for some such 
concession. " We depend upon you as our 
escort," Mrs. Shelley writes; and one feels that 
that also was due. She adds, however, the 
request : " Do not, I entreat you, frighten me 
by any more interpretations ; " and Payne seems 
to have been abashed. He now ventures to 
write to Mrs. Shelley as " My excellent friend " ; 
but he says : — 

" I was frightened at myself after I had sent 
that last letter, for though all true, yet it might 
have been as well to have kept it to myself. It 
is considerate in you to take it in such good part, 
and more than considerate to think of reducing 
my extravagance by a diet of friendship. I hope 
I may some time or other be enabled to show 
I am not unworthy of the distinction." 

He endeavoured to prove his worthiness by 
keeping up a regular supply of complimentary 
tickets for both Co vent Garden and Drury Lane. 
Pasta was in London that season; and Mrs. 
Shelley was enabled to see her in Faustus, Otello, 

373 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

William Tell, and other operas. She often had 
as many as six tickets for a single performance ; 
and Payne continued not to press his company, 
though he always offered it : — 

" Do not imagine I can be weary of anything 
you may require of me. I only wish you not to 
think yourself bound by politeness to ask me to 
be your escort, if you can supply my place more 
agreeably to yourself and others; and I say this 
honestly and without affectation." 

There was some question at this time of Payne 
having committed what he calls a " jatuitcy 
Mrs. Shelley says that she could not possibly 
accuse him of anything bordering on fatuite ; 
but adds : — 

" Your note looks as if you remembered all the 
nonsense I talked usually with Jane and you 
and the silent man in Lamb's garden ; but, do 
you know ? I am rather given to talk nonsense 
— and then only half of it was nonsense — a veil, 
a make-believe, which means everything and 
nothing, — if this is intelligible." 

It is only moderately intelligible. Payne, in 
his reply, professed not to understand it at all, 
saying, " I am determined never to remember 
anything about you which may not be remem- 
bered with pleasure," and also, " I shall always 
be confident you mean as kindly towards me as 
you can, and more, too, than I have any right 
to claim." Yet one divines that something has 
happened — something which Payne does not 
374 



MARY SHELLEY'S SUITORS 

altogether like. Was the " silent man " in 
Lamb's garden Washington Irving ? Had he 
and Mrs. Shelley . . . ? It is impossible to say ; 
but Washington Irving does figure in this 
story as a silent man, spoken of but never 
speaking, and we are nearing the moment when 
his figure must appear in the background. 

His initials appear in two sentences, which may 
mean anything or nothing : " Thank you for 
W. I.," and also, " I am still faithful to W. I." 
This synchronizes with the perception b)^ Payne 
of a certain coolness towards himself; and we 
find ]iim asking : " Has any careless act or ex- 
pression offended or vexed you ? " He was 
informed that no offence had been taken, and 
was invited to dine with Mrs. Shelley at Godwin's 
house, and to see her home afterwards. He 
accepted with protestations of delight; but a 
passage in the letter of acceptance shows that 
jealousy was tormenting him : — 

" I am glad you return to Irving, for it is 
tantalizing to have one's heart in a state of 
miscellany. What I myself might have thought 
on Saturday could I have presumed so far as to 
feel a personal interest in your fidelity ! Is ice 
a non-conductor ? But, if it is, how do you 
convey impressions ? " 

Mrs. Shelley, however, was quite capable of 
conveying impressions; and she conveyed them 
while walking home with Payne after the party. 
A memorandum of the conversation was one of 

375 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

the documents which Payne laid before Irving. 
It plainly marks a crisis : — 

" She attempted fully but delicately to explain 
herself. . . . She said she felt herself so placed 
with the world that she never could expect its 
distinctions ; and that the high feeling she enter- 
tained for the memory of her husband forbade 
the hope of any future connection which should 
make the world indifferent to her — or, rather, 
the English world. Therefore she was desirous 
of getting to Italy, and there passing the rest 
of her life. . . . The conversation then turned 
upon you. She said j^ou had interested her 
more than any one she had seen since she left 
Italy; that you were gentle and cordial, and 
that she longed for friendship with you. I 
rallied her a little upon the declaration, and at 
first she fired at my mentioning that she talked 
as if she were in love. Upon her reply I answered : 
' What ! would you make me a plaything of 
Mr. I. ? ' And then the chat sank into mere 
commonplace. The scope of her remarks was 
that, whenever she formed any alliance, it must 
be with some one whose high character and 
mind should be worthy of him who had drawn 
her from obscurity, and that her selection must 
not dishonour his choice." 

This memorandum was accompanied by a 
letter in which Payne was still more explicit. 
" It was some time," he wrote, " before I dis- 
covered that I was only sought as a source of an 
introduction to you — and I think you will, on 
376 



MARY SHELLEY'S SUITORS 

reading the papers, feel that I might have mis- 
taken the nature of my acquaintance with the 
writer without any gratuitous vanity." 

The Court of opinion is Hkely to be with him 
there, and may also admire the unselfishness of 
his endeavour to make his friends happy when 
he saw that happiness was not for him. He pro- 
ceeds to praise Mrs. Shelley as " a woman of the 
highest and most amiable qualities, and one 
whose wish for friendship it would be doing 
yourself injustice not to meet ; " and he begs 
Irving to " see and know Mrs. S. whenever you 
go to London." He effaces himself, saying : " I 
am not in the least dissatisfied with the way in 
which she considers me, however difficult an 
affair so little flattering to one's pride and 
affections is to endure at first ; " and he even 
goes so far as to plead for Mrs. Shelley, and to 
beg that Irving will excuse her for having made 
advances which may seem temerarious in one of 
her sex : — 

" No doubt it will cost you some reflection 
fully to appreciate the trouble I am taking to 
make you well acquainted with one I have 
known so well — to transfer an intimacy of which 
any one ought to be proud. I do not ask you to 
fall in love — but T should even feel a little proud 
of myself if you thought the lady worthy of that 
distinction, and very possibly you would have 
fallen in love with her, had you met her casually 
— but she is too much out of society to enable 
you to do so — ^and sentiments stronger than 

377 



\ 

THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

friendship seldom result from this sort of pre- 
vious earnestness for intimacy when it comes 
from the wrong side." 

That letter is not dated; so one does not 
know precisely at what stage of the proceedings 
it was dispatched. There seems, however, to 
have been an interval between Mrs. Shelley's 
admission that Payne was only her stalking- 
horse for the pursuit of Ii-ving and Payne's 
formal withdrawal from the field. Mrs. Shelley 
still wanted orders for the theatres, and Payne 
continued to provide them in abundance. Mrs. 
Shelley wanted a practical opinion on a play 
which Mrs. Williams had written, and Payne 
gave one. It was unfavourable, but there are 
some interesting sentences in it : " The play 
would not succeed if acted. . . . \Miatever 
merit it has is literary. ... If English plays 
are not understood by English galleries, the boxes 
are nevei' permitted to hear them. . . . Stage 
heroes are not expected to account for the ways 
in which they raise money. Mr. Rothschild 
would make but a sorry figure in a play about 
the Battle of Waterloo." Payne further offered 
to help Mrs. Williams in reconstructing her piece, 
but that offer was rejected with scorn. '' Mrs. 
Williams has no idea of making the radical 
alterations that you suggest." Finally Mrs. 
Shelley wished Payne to show her one of 
Washington Irving's letters. 

What she expected to find in the letter one 
can only guess without any confidence that one 
378 



MARY SHELLEY'S SUITORS 

guesses right. Payne hesitated to send it because 
of some references which it contained to his 
own private affairs, but ultimately sent it " lest 
circumstances should give a false colouring to its 
being withheld." His own covering letter is a 
very long one, and contains his definite resigna- 
tion of his pretensions. He tells Mrs. Shelley 
in it how he came to fall in love with her : "A 
flash, as it were, and that at a time and place of 
which you can form no idea, gave me a thorough 
impression of all which I have since found con- 
firmed of the beauty of your heart and intellect." 
That was before meeting her ; but then : — 

" I met you afterwards, and left you with a 
thorough determination not to trust myself to 
the danger of your acquaintance, with a wish, if 
you can understand such a wish, to pay you the 
same homage as I would the memory of one 
whom I had loved, but whose form, were it to 
appear, would only perplex me." 

And then : — 

" I did meet you again, and presumed too 
much on my courage, forgetting that, the rein 
once given to feelings between the sexes, they 
are apt involuntarily to spurn the curb and 
gallop over the prescribed boundary. The error 
was perfectly gratuitous. I told you I knew my 
danger and could laugh at it. I am afraid now 
the laugh is not on my side." 

Payne adds that he has " given way to an 
absurdity," and has only himself to blame. He 

379 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

acquits Mrs. Shelley of unkindness, saying : "I 
have never yet met an instance of so much frank- 
ness and honest determination, the moment the 
truth became obvious, not to commit the feelings 
of the one party or the integrity^ of the other." 
But the pain is great, and the wound must be 
allowed time to heal : " It is therefore better I 
should not meet you till this strange fever is 
over." And finally : — 

" To return to the point at which our conversa- 
tions began and have ended — Washington Irving 
— be assured I will act the hero in this business ; 
and shall feel quite reconciled to the penalty to 
which my folly has condemned me, and which, I 
hope, I have firmness enough to make a light one, 
if my friendship should prove the stepping-stone 
to one so mucli more gratifying and desirable." 

WTiereto Mrs. Shelley replies with good advice, 
exhorting Payne to " awaken to laudable ambi- 
tion and exhilarating industry," expressing regret 
that Payne's letter seems " to place a barrier to 
any future meeting," and especially deploring the 
fact that " it is ever one's hard fate either to be 
deserted and neglected, or, which turns out the 
same thing, to be liked too well and so avoided." 
And then she goes on to ask for six compli- 
mentary tickets for a performance at Sadler's 
Wells. ' 

Truly it was a strange game of cross purposes ; 
but there was a further surprise to follow — 
perhaps not a very great surprise to Payne, but 
certainly a great surprise to Mrs. Shelley. Payne 
380 



MARY SHELLEY'S SUITORS 

was so much in living's confidence that he prob- 
ably knew — what Mrs. Shelley evidently did not 
know — that Washington Irving was himself, at 
this time, suffering the pangs of unrequited love. 
He had quite lately, while on a visit to Dresden, 
proposed to, and been refused by, Miss Emily 
Foster, afterwards Mrs. Fuller; and a passage 
quoted by his biographer from a journal kept by 
Miss Emily Foster's sister shows how deeply his 
feelings were engaged : — 

" He has written. He has confessed to my 
mother, as to a true and dear friend, his love for 
E . . . . , and his conviction of its utter hope- 
lessness. He feels himself unable to combat it. 
He thinks he must try, by absence, to bring 
more peace to his mind. Yet he cannot bear to 
give up our friendship — an intercourse become 
so dear to him, and so necessary to his daily 
happiness. Poor Irving ! " 

And, one may add : Poor Mary Shelley ! For 
Payne had abdicated in Washington Irving's 
favour in vain. Washington Irving, for the reason 
which the last extract indicates, showed no 
symptoms of any desire to assume the honours 
of the kingdom prepared for him. Mrs. Shelley 
confesses as much to Payne in a letter from 
which it seems a fair inference that marriage, 
and not mere friendship, was indeed her 
objective : — 

" As for my favourite I., methinks our acquaint- 
ance proceeds at the rate of the Antediluvians 

381 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

who, I have somewhere read, thought nothing of 
an interval of a year or two between a visit. 
Alack ! I fear that, at this rate, if ever the church 
should make us one, it would be announced in 
the consoling phrase that the Bride and Bride- 
groom's joint ages amounted to the discreet 
number of 145 and three months." 

The next letter is in reply to Payne's announce- 
ment that he is going to Paris (wliere Washington 
Irving was then living in the Rue Richelieu), and 
that he would like to see Mrs. Shelley again before 
he goes, but feels that the pleasure would be 
fraught with pain for him. We may ignore the 
demands for complimentary tickets, and only 
quote what is pertinent — Mrs. Shelley's admis- 
sion of her fear that she has made herself 
ridiculous : — 

" I trust that I shall see you because I do not 
see why the visit should be so painful as you 
suppose, and truly hope that you will soon return 
to this country. 

" Now, my dear Payne, tho' I am a little fool, 
do not make me appear so in the Rue Richelieu 
by repeating tales out of school — nor mention 
the Antediluvians. But I am not afraid; I am 
sure you love me well enough not to be accessory 
in making me appear ridiculous to one whom I 
like and esteem, though I am sure that the time 
and space between us will never be shortened. 
Perhaps it is that very certainty that makes me, 
382 



MARY SHELLEY'S SUITORS 

female Quixote as I am, pay such homage to the 
unattainable Dulcinea in the Cueva de Monte- 
sinos, i.e. Rue Richelieu. 

" But again be not a tell-tale. So God bless 
you ! Give my love, of course Platonic, to 



There is a note of bitterness in Payne's answer, 
mingled, as it seems to one, with a note of 
exultation over the failure of the pursuit to 
which he had been sacrificed : — 

" My dearest Friend, — I shall be on my way 
to Paris when you get this ; I ought to have been 
so before, but annoyances detained me. I need 
not tell you how deep is my regret at leaving a 
place so much dearer to you than the one to 
which I am going, and then to know at the same 
time that I must be quite forgotten in your 
' favourite,' and only stray upon your memory 
now and then to supply a supernumerary laugh 
when you and your excellent friend have ex- 
hausted the review of your acquaintances, making 
the people below stairs at No. 6 Mortimer Terrace 
wonder what two lone, disconsolate ladies can 
find to be so merry about ? Who will be your 
favoured escort now ? Who will go with you to 
see plays and keep your patience from rusting 
from want of use ? Who will love you with all 
his heart, and not quarrel with you or with 
himself when you tempt him to encourage a 
great disposition in you to love somebody else ? 

383 



THE ROMANTIC LIFE OF SHELLEY 

" The admissions you desired are enclosed. I 
tried, but without success, to get the Lyceum 
ones undated, but it could not be. The opera, I 
fear, is impracticable. All the orders there are 
crowded out by money." 

So the curtain falls ; and one is left wondering 
whether, if Payne had returned to the attack, 
after Washington Irving had bowed himself out, 
he might not, after all, have triumphed. It is 
impossible to say; for he had either too little 
courage, or too much pride, to try; and though 
he continued occasionally to exchange letters 
with Mrs. Shelley for several years, the subse- 
quent letters only deal with the subject of free 
admission to the theatre. 

" I am," writes Mrs. Shelley, in the last letter 
of all, dated 1831, " an enthusiastic admirer of 
Paganini, and wish excessively to hear him ; but 
the tariff they put on the boxes renders this 
impossible " . . . , etc., etc., etc. ; which seems 
to show that the passion for going to places 
of public entertainment without paying was at 
least as strong in Mrs. Shelley as the passion for 
romance. 



384 



INDEX 



Address to the Irish People, 158 
Alastor, 254-255 
Allegra, 280, 286, 304, 332, 351 
Arnold, Dr. Thomas, 47, 148, 278 

Baxter, Christy, 185 
Boinville, Mme. de, 199, 213 
Brougham, James, 144 
Byron, Lord, 44, 252-253, 256- 
268, 304, 327, 329-330, 357 

Casa Magni, 351-360 

Cenci, The, 307 

Clairmont, Charles, 209, 219-225, 
285, 247-248, 254, 279, 343 

, Jane, 209, 213, 225-226, 

228-235, 249-253, 255-272, 
279-280, 286-287, 294, 303- 
305, 309, 331, 343-345, 351 

Coleridge, Arthur Duke, 35 

, Sir John Taylor, 14, 308 

Eaton, Daniel Isaac, 182 
Eldon, Lord, 245-246 
Ellenborough, Lord, 171 
Epipsychidion, 312, 315, 318- 

319 
Evan, Robert Pant, 191 

Gellibrand, Mr., 27 
Gisborne, Mrs., 289, 352 
Godwin, Fanny, 174, 195-196, 
208-209, 232, 247, 250, 252- 
253, 272-274 
, Mary, 185, 207, 209-210, 

212-214, 224-255, 268-274. 

See also Shelley, Mary 
, William, 118, 151-157, 160- 

161, 183-186, 194-198, 208- 

209, 232 

, William, jun., 209 

Graham, Edward Fargus, 43 



Graham, James, 20 

, Sir James, 83 

Grant, Miss, 51-54 
Greenlaw, Dr., 27-28 
Gronow, Captain, 33, 59 
Grove, CTiarles, 119 

, Harriet, 59-62, 78-82, 87, 

94-95 
Guiccioli, La, 327, 330 

Hamilton, Lady, mentioned, 20 

Harvey, Canon, 39 

Havvtrey, Dr., 35, 39 

Healey, Daniel, 157 

Hill, Rowland, 87 

Hitchener, Elizabeth, 91, 103, 
107-110, 112, 115-116, 121- 
123, 126-127, 137, 153, 155, 
157, 160-161, 163-168, 174- 
181 

Hogg, Tliomas Jefferson, 48-50, 
70-71, 75, 78,88, 103-104, 112, 
119, 123-141, 178-179, 192, 
193, 196-198, 204, 213, 248, 
311, 325, 346 

Holcroft, Fanny, 370 

" Home, Sweet Home," 364-365 

Hookham, Mr., 187, 189, 191 

Hoppner, Mrs., 303 

Howard of Corby, Mrs., 144 

Hunt, Leigh, 244, 248, 276, 279, 
309, 311, 357-359 

Hussey, V. E. G., 79 

Irving, Washington, 364-366, 
367-368, 375-383 

Jeaffreson, Cordy, 29, 40 



Keate, Dr., 35, 39, 70 
Keats, John, 276 
Keble, John, 47, 278 



385 



INDEX 



Kiunaird, Douglas, 365 

Lambj Charles, 270 

Laon and Cythna, 276, 312, 354 

Lawrence, Chevalier, 173 

Leonora, 68 

Lewis, " Monk," mentioned, 270 

Matthews, Henry, 37 
Mavrocordato, Prince, 312, 345 
Medwin, Tom, 27-28, 78, 142, 

248, 2S)8-299, 311-312, 333 
Michell, Mary Catherine, 20 
Milman, Dean, mentioned, 47 
Montgomery, Robert, 73, 76-77 
Mountcashell, Lady, 213, 311-312 
Musgrave, Lady, 144 
Miisset, Alfred de, quoted, 292- 

293 

Necessity of Atheism, The, 67, 

71-72, 75, 148 
Norfolk, Duke of, 86, 142-145 
Nugent, Mrs., 163-164, 170-172, 

195, 215 

O'Neill, Miss, 307 
Oriyinal Poems, 78 

Pacchiani, Signer, 312-313 

Paolo, 301-302 

Parker, Hellen, mentioned, 22 

Pasta, 373 

Payne, John Howard, 364-384 

Peacock, 'lliomas Love, 120, 202, 

210-211, 213, 236, 244, 248, 

254, 279, 308-311, 329 
Perry, Amos, 365-366 

, Elizabeth Jane Sidney, 21 

Pilfold, Captain, 86, 107, 123, 181 

, Elizabeth, mentioned, 22 

Pisa, 307, 329 
Place, Francis, 219, 223 
Fosthtimous Fragments, 68 
Prometheus, 307 

ifiieen Mah, 198, 245, 298 

Rennie, Sir John, 27 
Reveley, Henry, 307 
Romilly, Sir Samuel, 245 

386 



Ryan, Major, 213-214, 221 

St. Irvyne, 68, 94 

Sgricci, Signer, 312 

Sharpe, C. Kirkpatrick, 69 

Shelley, Elizabeth, 78, 80-81, 
104-106 

, Harriet, niarriage,117 et seq.', 

gossip concerning Hogg, 128- 
i36; in Ireland, 157-169; 
letters to Mrs. Nugent, 
170-180; life at Tanyrallt, 
183-191 ; estrangement from 
Shelley, 194-207 ; separa- 
tion, 211 ; reported miscon- 
duct with Major Ryan, 213 ; 
letters on the situation, 214- 
218; death, 240. See also 
Westbrook, Harriet 

, Hellen, 92 

, lanthe, 200, 202, 214 

, John, 20 

, Mary, 274-275, 280, 282, 

285, 288-290, 294, 296-298, 
302-304, 315-310, 321-327, 
329-331, 333, 335, 337-339, 
341, 343-348, 350-352, 354, 
359 to end. See also God- 
win, Mary 

, Percy Bysshe, ancestors 

and parents, 19-26 ; at Sion 
House Academy, 27-32 ; at 
Eton, 33-46 ; at Oxford, 47 
et seq. ; Harriet Grove's com- 
panionship, 59-62 ; early 
theological opinions, 63 et 
seq. ; expulsion from Oxford, 
76-77 ; life in London, 78- 
87 ; return to Field Place, 
88 ; acquaintance with Miss 
Hitchener and Harriet West- 
brook, and elopement with 
the latter, 90-116 ; marriage, 
and life at York, 117 e^ seq. ; 
quarrel with Hogg, 132-141 ; 
at Keswick, 142 ; reconcilia- 
tion with his father, 144-146; 
relations with Southey, 146- 
151 ; influence of Godwin, 
] 61-166; expedition to Ire- 
land, 157-169 ; in Wales and 
at Lynmouth, 170 et seq. ; 



INDEX 



at Tauyrallt, 183-191; second 
visit to Ireland, 191-193; 
estrangement from Harriet, 
194 - 207 ; separation, 208- 
211 ; elopement with Mary 
Godwin, 225 et seq. ; invites 
Harriet to join him, 230 ; 
troubles on return to Eng- 
land, 23-2-237 ; death of his 
grandfather, 237 ; Southey's 
criticisms, 242-243 ; Chan- 
cery suit, 245 ; at Clifton and 
Bisliopgate, 247-255 ; at Ge- 
neva, 268 ; second marriage, 
275 ; at Marlow, 275 ; de- 
parture for Italy, 281 ct seq. ; 
delivers Allegra to Byron, 
286 ; social boycott, 287 et 
seq ; at Rome and Naples, 
294 ; melancholy, 295 ; scan- 
dals regarding Jane Clair- 
mont, 303-306 ; at Pisa, 307 ; 
acquaintance mtli Emilia 
Viviani, 313-319 ; life at Pisa, 
329-342 ; finds inspiration in 
Jane Williams, 343-350 ; at 
Casa Magni, 351 ; death, 360 

Shelley, Percy Florence, 311;, 
369 

— ^— ', Sir B3rsshe, bart., 19-21, 237 

, Sir Thomas, 19 

, Sir Timothy, 19-20, 22-23, 

57-58, 82-86, 119, 123, 128, 
143-144, 237, 247, 254 

, Sir William, 19 

Sion House Academy, 27-32 



Smith, Horace, 276, 311, a30-331 
Southey, Robert, 146-151, 241- 

243, 270, 308 
Stracliey, Mr. St. Loe, mentioned, 

158-159 
Styles, Sir Thomas, 33-34 
Sumner, Bishop, nientionedy 14 

Taaffe, Count, 312, 345 
Tanyrallt, 183-191 
Trelawny, 248-249, 322, 329-342, 
360-362 

Viviani, Emilia, 312-319, 324 

Walker, Rev. John, 72-74 

, T. S., note, 36, 38 

Westbrook, Eliza, 95-97, 99, 102, 
109-111, 113, 123, 126-127, 
130-133, 140-141, 144, 161- 
163, 178, 188-189, 191-192, 
200, 205 

, Harriet, acquaintance with 

Shellev, 90 et seq. 

, John, 123 

^Thately, Archbishop, mentioned, 
47 

AVilliams, Captain, 333, 360 

, Jane, 324-325, 343-360, 

355-366, 369, 369 

, John, 192 

Wollstonecraft, Everina, 274 

Wordsworth, William, mentioned, 
150 

Zastroxzi, 42-48 



387 



Richard Clay & Sons, Limited, 

brunswick street, stamford strp' s.e., 

and bunoay, suffolk. 



\- #-^ lOP 



